Would it be wrong to scratch someone?
Logic and social standards said yes.
But Felix was becoming damned tempted.
His brow was aching some fierce, his limbs felt achy, his skin clammy, and his palms kept sweating. He was unfortunately getting sick. He surmised from stress of overworking. So Miss Bourgeois' shrill screech as she snarled about whatever was not helping his mental state in the slightest.
At least Marin—
Dupain-Cheng.
He's hanging out with her too much, ugh.
But at least she was resolute to keep her voice low and calm, though he could detect the sharpening edge in it as Bourgeois started to push it.
He wondered who had the sharper claws, him or Mar—
DUPAIN-CHENG.
He is NOT familiar with her, at all. There is only one in his life that he would be so familiar with and that was the queen of his heart, cloaked in the warmest red, and will these two just shut up already? He was too tired for this.
What was she even going on about?
Cracking one furious grey blue eye open to observe, he half listened to the argument, watching Bourgeois rattle away with a huge sweep of her hands. Dupain-Cheng stood a foot away with stiff patience, an equal scowl on her face. And a very visible roll of her eyes. Behind her at the teacher's desk, he could see her friend Alya, looking downright pissed and ready to march over and join the sparking fray. It was only the spectacle boy beside her, whose name Felix couldn't remember, that kept the red head from charging by gripping her shoulder firmly.
"-I refuse to wear anything you make!" Bourgeois' voice rang in, drawing Felix back to whatever argument was going on, one he couldn't believe was going on.
Costumes.
It was about costumes for the coming play.
Was she serious?
By. God.
A quiet, agitated growl rumbled out his chest before he could stop it. It was thankfully too quiet for his surrounding classmates to hear; but Felix still stiffened a little, wincing when the blonde's voice raised an octave at whatever Dupain-Cheng said.
Fed up, he got up and approached the squabble. Bourgeos went hush at his approach, her light blue eyes blown wide, a light bit of pink dusting her cheeks. She flashed him what he's sure is probably her most charming smile. "Oh, Felix, hi! Can I help you something?" she practically cooed.
His inner Chat had a displeased hiss at the tip of his tongue.
Felix smiled, polite and equally charming.
"Yes, you can Miss Bourgeois," he said, his smile growing pleasantly. "What is the issue here?"
Her expression dropped to a scowl, and she jerked a finger at baffled Dupain-Cheng. ""She's making the costumes! Can you believe it? I refuse to wear anything she makes. They're all less an ideal for me and this play!"
Smile still in place, Felix hummed. "Well Miss Bourgeois," he leant forward, startling her enough to lean back, her eyes getting wider. He could feel the whole class gaping at him, but was just too done to care. "If Miss Marinette making the costumes is just too much for you; perhaps you should handle the costumes instead! Get us the best, and let Marinette handle the lead role instead."
There was an alarmed squeaked beside them.
Felix didn't acknowledge it, too locked on Bourgeois' gaping expression. The blonde stuttered and stumbled, barely managing anything out of her mouth.
He drew away, giving her space, his polite smile still in place. "Unless of course you want to keep your lead role. Perhaps then you should spend your energy perfecting it. I understand your father is bringing a lot of important people to this play. You'll want to perform at your best. You should leave Miss Marinette to worry and stress about the costumes, and don't waste time harassing her about them when you haven't even seen what she has planned yet."
He left her side, grabbing his bag and slipping it over his shoulder. Turning to the gaping Bourgeois one more time, he finished with his usual neutral frown. "From what I've seen, Miss Marinette has done some pretty adequate work. I don't think you have much to fear Miss Bourgeois."
He left the classroom, intent on heading home and to bed.
If he wanted to see his queen soon, he'll want to kick away this coming cold before it fully snagged him.
He was a few feet from the door when the class exploded.
Miss Bourgeois was shrieking once more, Dupain-Cheng was stuttering, and he could faintly hear her friend demanding, "What did you do?! Is there something you're not telling me?!"
Felix didn't care to learn what the issue was now.
He just wanted to go home.
It was only when he flopped into his bed did he realize that he vocally called her Marinette.
Not Dupain-Cheng like he usually would.
Shit.
He blamed this on his exhaustion.
sick Felix will return