The subtle, sweet scent of croissants wafted up from the plate on Marinette's desk, beginning to cool down as they were now forgotten. After school work had been completed, the young girl had thrown herself into her passion. What she was making was simple. A skirt. She had sketched out the design a week before, had bought fabrics yesterday before the akuma attack, and had just now found the time to get started. Marinette had almost held off another day, due to her wrist, but she couldn't stand the thought of the fabric sitting neatly on her desk, folded into a small pile, taunting her with ideas of the beautiful skirt it would make. It was nothing too complicated, of course, just an idea she had for Alya. It would be highwaisted, with an orange band that would secure it into place, two white buttons holding it together. It would have an outer layer of the same sunset orange fabric, that would split down the middle to reveal a soft ruffly white underlayer, that would serve as the body of the skirt. Marinette had come up with the idea when she saw her friend wear a white blouse to an interview, and had thought this would go perfectly with it.

She was cutting the fabric now, each slice of the scissors slow and decisive as she went along the lines she had made just minutes before. Though the process was long, she would much rather have it take time that have to start all over again. It would be at least an hour or two before dinner, so she had a little while longer before she had to go downstairs.

Outside her bedroom windows, dusk had fallen over the city of Paris. A shade settled over each building with care, as if someone was trying to place it down gently. It was dark, yes, but nowhere near as dark as the deep onyx hue that colored the leather suit belonging to one of the city's famed superheroes. Chat Noir leaped across the rooftops with ease, leaving no evidence that he'd been there but for the occasional scratching of the edges. The wind further ruffled his wild golden locks, peridot green eyes glowing with an unearthly hue. Muscles burned with use, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Being Chat Noir gave him this feeling, a feeling that nothing else would ever be able to come close to. It was freedom. It was relief. It was the realization that he was his own person, that he wasn't owned by anyone, not even his father. Though he felt suffocated as Adrien, Chat Noir allowed him to breathe.

He reached her home quickly, led by the sweet scents of bread and cookies. For a moment, he paused on the rooftop nearby. Should he go up to the veranda and knock from there? Or, would it be easier to go by the bay windows? He puzzled this for a moment, when a flash of movement redirected his attention. Oh, she was in her room. Really, he should've realized that. He peered closer, clutching the edge of the building with clawed hands so he wouldn't tip over. Marinette was cutting fabric, bluebell eyes focused intently on the task before her. A small, involuntary smile alighted itself on his lips as he studied her. It was amazing, really, how she could be so passionate, so entranced by something so simple. But, then again, it wasn't that simple. It was extraordinary. The smile then vanished. Maybe someday he'd find something like that.

The overgrown cat waited for a moment for her to finish cutting out the piece, so he wouldn't startle her and she might end up cutting herself. When she placed the scissors down, he made the jump, hanging from a small ledge with his hands, so he dangled in front of one of her windows. She'd see him when she turned around.

And see him she did. As soon as she turned on her heels to face her desk once more, her gaze was instead drawn to the black cat hanging outside of the glass, a smug grin on his face and a gleam in his electric eyes. Her own widened, and she hurried over to the window, pulling the panes of the window towards her to open them. A cutting remark was on the tip of her tongue, but she was forced to bite it back as she played the part of the citizen. She only hoped Tikki would realize to hide when she came back from her cookie mission downstairs.

"Ch-Chat Noir! What are you doing here?" She exclaimed, pulling back from the window to allow him to come inside. He swung once before launching himself forward, landing on her bedroom floor with the grace and silence of a much smaller feline. She managed to catch a glimpse of the paws etched on the soles of his boots before they hit the ground.

"Well, I was just on my evening purr-trol when I thought I'd swing by and check on you, princess." He hummed, his tone lyrical as he rested a hand on her wall, leaning his weight against it. Marinette fought back a groan at the pun. "A little birdie told me that you were hurt in the last attack," He strode forward, missing the now puzzled look on her face. Taking her hand in his own, he fell into a slight bow to press his lips against the white bandages that wrapped around her injured wrist. "I came to offer my sincerest apologies."

She couldn't mask the eyeroll when he bent to kiss her hand, but to her surprise, his lips went to her wrist instead. As soon as he loosened his grip, she retrieved her hand, and looked up at him with a slight frown.

"Chat, there's no need to apologize, how could it have been your fault? I just managed to trip while running away and.." He cut her off.

"I should've paid more attention, then." She started to say something, paused, and then quickly shook her head.

"You were fighting, I was just clumsy."

"But I never should've let my princess fall," Marinette just stared at him for a moment, his words reaching her ears. That was so sweet, it was almost like- "Unless it was for me." The smirk was back, and Marinette snorted with sudden laughter. She punched him lightly on the shoulder with her good hand, and he took a step back in mock shock, but his brief facade was soon broken by his own snickers.

"You dumb cat! That was absolutely awful!"

"I believe you meant clawful, though I beg to dif-fur."

At this point, the two had dissolved into childish giggles. Chat studied the girl for a moment, and eventually determined that she really was okay. It must've just been a freak thing, a complete accident. A grin stretched across his face once more.

"Well, if you're feline alright, I guess I should be going." He shrugged, not noticing Marinette's brief moment of hesitation after the giggles had subsided. He turned to step towards the window when her voice sounded behind him.

"Actually, if you aren't busy," He turned to find her standing before him, the plate of croissants held in her hands. "Why don't you stay?"