Seventy-Six: Twas the Night Before the Board Meeting
Chat is entirely too keyed up about his presentation, but Ladybug has an idea on how to calm him down.
The fifth time I picked up my phone and saw it was still one in the morning, I decided I'd had enough and quietly slipped from beneath the sheets of our bed. Tip-toeing to the door of Marinette's suite, I slowly eased my self through it and into the main space of our apartment. The Miracle Box was sitting quietly in the corner and save for a particularly identifiable snoring emanating from the cabinet where the Camembert was stored, it appeared our kwami wards had kept to their inner sanctum for once.
Quietly, I made my way behind the breakfast bar; without my night vision, I used what little light was filtering through the balcony slider to avoid slamming into anything. Gently opening the cabinet door, I smiled to see the God of Destruction draped over a half-eaten wheel of smelly cheese. The poor cat looked as tired as I felt, for we'd been up nearly two days straight thanks to the early arrival of our friend's twins. Allegra and Zerlina – somewhat appropriate names given the seemingly boundless energy of the former and the already evident mischievousness of the latter – had finally gone home with the tired but happy couple, and with that, the equally as happy but extremely exhausted Heroes of Paris had taken a cursory lap around Paris just to ensure Hawkmoth hadn't gotten up to no good before crashing, hard.
Except now that the immediate crisis was over, my brain returned to the worries of my impending presentation to the board, worries that had awoken me barely an hour after snuggling close to Marinette and drowsily falling asleep with the scent of her strawberry shampoo in my latent feline nose. I'd tried some of my visualization skills, the very same ones that let me emote on command during photo shoots, but that made me think of work, which led me right back to the worries of taking on Felix at the nine o'clock meeting. As I watched my tiny kwami continue to snore, I wondered what it would be like seeing my cousin in person for the first time in many years. The last time had not exactly gone well, considering what he'd done, and I presumed his actions at the meeting would similarly not be bound by any sort of morality or ethics that I subscribed to.
A fair fight I could handle. Felix, though, would have already seen to it the deck was stacked in his favor. Knowing that gave me a leg up, of course, but the worries plaguing me surrounded whether I had accounted for every possible angle that might come up. Adding to my angst was that Father would similarly be working against me.
If only I could march in there as Chat Noir!
Despite all of the encouragement from Marinette – and her solid support, I felt like I sorely needed the swagger and self-confidence that came with the mask. There were plenty of moments when I had brought them to bear as Adrien, but this seemed different. For the first time in my young career, I couldn't help the nagging feeling I was going into that Board Room naked.
Hoping a quick jog around Paris would help settle my mind, I gently tapped Plagg. As expected, I got the gimlet eye. "What…?"
"I'd like to go for a walk," I replied.
"Right now?"
"Yes."
He sat up and started to say something but saw something in my face. "What's wrong, kid?" he asked.
"Nothing," I lied, and tried to cover it with a small smile. "I just need to clear my thoughts, that's all."
Plagg looked at me for a long moment, and briefly, the crusty curmudgeon mask he wore slipped enough to show his genuine concern for my wellbeing. Without saying another word, he nabbed another slice of cheese and downed it in a single gulp, then floated up to me, nodding that he was ready. I motioned him to follow me to my old suite: I closed the door behind us, closed my eyes, then quietly called for my transformation. As the magical wave washed over me, I felt how my sense of self shifted as each centimeter of magical black leather enveloped me, relishing the change and the cocky attitude that came with it. Mere moments later, I was vaulting through my balcony doors and out into the darkness of the night.
The air was cool against my exposed cheeks as I dashed from rooftop to rooftop, and whistled past my feline ears as I leapt across darkened alleyways, then twisted into Olympic-worthy vaults just for good measure. I had no specific destination in mind and simply let my body go where it wanted, following whatever scent or noise I fancied. Slowly, the anxiety that had been pressing against my soul began to ease; though I knew it was but a temporary aftereffect of the endorphins from my feline prowling, the feeling of centered wellbeing was welcome.
Pleasantly exhausted, I landed along a tall wall overlooking the reflecting pools at the Trocadero, a favored spot for me since I had spent many a joyous hour watching Marinette sketch or paint the vibrant park during our early courtship. She still ventured out a few times each year, but it occurred to me that the demands of our adult lives had curtailed some of the spontaneous outings we had once enjoyed. And unlike Nino and Alya, we didn't have kittens; soberly, I wondered what aspects of our lives would have to adjust when that stage of our lives appeared, though in a heartbeat, I knew I'd rearrange heaven and earth to spend as much time with my children as I could. That it was me as a solo child compensating for having been left alone for much of my tween and teenager years was irrelevant.
Something Nino had said the prior evening had also been rattling around my feline brain; I knew he and Alya were still pondering whether to give up being superheroes for the good of their nascent family. The choice wasn't binary for me – to have kittens or be Chat; no, I had lived with my unique existence long enough that there was no question my superhero alter-ego would always be a part of my life. Deep in my feline heart, I knew I was both Chat and Adrien; the problem seemed to be how to pull the parts of one when the other needed them the most.
Like, say, at the board meeting in a few hours.
Stretching out with my paws behind my mane, I closed my eyes to put that sudden rising anxiety back into a small box and focused on the sounds of the birds in the trees below me, and the gentle burbling of the fountains as they cascaded into the pools. Off in the distance were the muted sounds of the late-night traffic bustling about Paris, giving a welcome, comforting background to the city I loved and protected daily. Sighing, I felt a slight smile appear on my masked face. The stress was still there of course, bubbling just below the surface, but for the moment, manageable.
Though it felt like it had been just a moment, I awoke with a start at the gentle touch to my black-cladded shoulder. Flipping around and into a pounce-crouch, I had my baton twirling in full shield mode before realizing it was a rather shocked Ladybug standing a meter or so away from me atop the wall.
Except, it wasn't exactly Ladybug. "Milady?" I asked, confused slightly as I spun down the baton. "You're not quite right…" I trailed off as the last vestiges of sleep dropped away from my feline eyes and I realized I knew why. "Multimouse?"
My partner laughed. "Tikki was exhausted, so I woke Mullo up. It's a damn good thing I could track you, kitty," she continued as she approached and pressed a finger to my costumed chest. "I woke up to an empty bed. And no note."
I felt the heat of embarrassment against my cheeks. "I'm sorry," I said, pulling her toward me and burying my face between her two mouse ear-shaped buns. "I couldn't sleep."
"I know," she said as she wrapped her grey-and-purple-cladded arms around me. "You're worried about later?"
"Yeah."
"Why?" she asked softly. "You've rehearsed the presentation enough times now, you've got it down cold. And the arguments you are making are sound."
"I know," I sighed. "Despite all of my model training, and all of the years I've been Chat Noir, facing off against my cousin and my father shakes me to my core, and I can't tell you why. Nor can I figure out what I can do."
Multimouse looked up at me. "Then be Chat."
I pulled back from her. "I can't do that!" I said quickly. "To reveal—"
"No, silly," she laughed, running a gloved hand through my wild mane. "You can be Chat without being Chat."
I looked at her askance. "Without the mask, that would be kind of hard."
"Chat Noir is far more than just a mask," she reminded me with a sweet smile. "Tell me this. When you close your eyes, how do you see yourself?"
"When I close my eyes?" I repeated slowly. "More often than not, I see Chat, I guess," I said after a moment of reflection. "But I've spent so much time transformed, it's hard not to."
"Exactly," she said softly. "Use those visualization skills that make you so effective as a model, but this time, see yourself as Chat while you sell the board on your idea. Treat it like a part. Allow that inner feline of yours to run the show for a bit, and you'll be fine."
I looked at her and started to object before some rational part of my brain clicked; in an instant, I knew she'd given me the key to unlock all of what Chat brought to the table. "Holy shit," I breathed. "That might just work."
"Of course it will," Multimouse said with a chuckle. "Have ever steered you wrong?'
"No," I smiled. "Hardly ever. Any chance you could do that multiplicity thing and then hide in my pocket for the presentation? It might go easier if I had a cheering section."
Multimouse leaned up and kissed me. "You won't need it," she smiled as she pulled away. "But I'll be there with you in spirit. You know that."
"I do," I sighed.
"Good. Now, if you want to come home, I might let my kitty play with a mouse tonight in order to get the rest of his anxiety under control," she said as she playfully ran a finger along the edge of my mask. "I understand that certain endorphins from such an… activity… could relax a cat as high strung as you are."
I cocked my head. "Tikki's not exhausted, is she?" I asked softly.
"No," Multimouse replied with devilish glee. "But this," she added, stepping back just enough to give me a fine view of how form fitting the grey-and-purple mouse-themed costume was, "was her idea. I agreed it had merits. What do you think?"
"I think," I said with a wide smile as I extended my baton, "I'm already late."
"There's a good kitty," she laughed as we vaulted, side-by-side, into the night.
