This chapter is long and angsty. I hope you enjoy.
Coryphée
A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction
By Mintaka14
Chapter Three – Entrée de Carabosse
Little things kept going wrong after that, and it culminated in the unforgiveable sin of being late for afternoon rehearsal. Madame had regarded her with frozen hauteur as she'd burst into the studio half an hour late and stammering an apology, and had sublimely disregarded her for the remainder of the afternoon, which was worse.
Of course, the moment that there was a break in the rehearsal, Marinette heard Lila's voice start up.
"Oh, I'm sure Marinette didn't mean to be late, but… well, doesn't it seem disrespectful? Surely anyone else would plan and make sure that they were on time, when Madame has given her an opportunity like this? I mean, no matter what the excuse, you wouldn't be late, would you, Alya? And to say someone must have turned off her alarm like that – well, isn't it more likely that she just forgot to turn it on?"
That telling pause before Alya spoke up to defend her hurt more than Marinette was willing to admit. Without saying a word, she shoved the doors open and headed out into the corridor, looking for a few moments to breathe. She'd reached the staircase when a hand landed on her arm and she spun around defensively. Adrien backed away, his hands in the air.
"It's just me," he said with a smile, but his eyes were concerned. "Is everything okay?"
Marinette let out a sharp breath. "Lila's at it again, insinuating that I'm not reliable, and I only got the part because I did something shady. There's always something, some little dig, about my dancing, or my weight, or how I'm always tripping over something."
"Don't let her get to you," Adrien said earnestly. "It's all just talk."
Marinette shot a look at him, then her eyes dropped. She found herself frowning down at the staircase bannister. Did… did he really believe that? He'd grown up in the cut-throat worlds of ballet and fashion where reputations and careers were made and broken by gossip and malicious rumours. How did he not see what Lila could do with just a few words in the right place? Already, Marinette felt that some of the instructors were looking at her a little more thoughtfully, a little more warily, and Marinette would bet that Lila was behind it.
"And I think you're amazing. I'm so glad we were partnered up. It's like we were meant to be together," Adrien was saying. "So don't worry about Lila, no matter what she thinks, I know you're an incredible dancer."
Marinette's jaw dropped a little in astonishment. That was what he thought she was worried about? He stood there with a hopeful look on his face, and she sighed.
"We'd better get back," she gave in, and started back towards the studio. "I don't want to be late again today. Once was enough, and Madame will be starting again soon."
Adrien's face broke out in a beam, and he jogged ahead to open the door for her with a courtly flourish. "Milady."
"Oh, Marinette," Lila almost sobbed on a note of overdone drama as Marinette came in. "I am so sorry for what I said!"
Adrien was giving Marinette a look of meaningful expectation, but she didn't trust herself to say anything in response.
"If I'd know it was such a sensitive issue for you, I wouldn't have said a word, and I'm sure you didn't really mean to be so late," Lila was still going.
Alya wrapped an arm around her. "You've been working too hard, Marinette. We all have. I say we take the night off and go out somewhere."
There was a ripple of approval from the handful of dancers who were close enough to hear, and suggestions being tossed around, but Marinette tuned it out. She could feel a headache setting in, and she pressed her fingers to her temples.
"You should come with us," Alya suggested, hugging her shoulder tighter. "You could use a night out."
"Yes, Marinette. You should come with us," Lila said, the smile she gave suggesting that she would enjoy every second of it if Marinette was unwise enough to agree.
Marinette swallowed thickly. "I really should get home. I don't feel too well tonight. Maybe another time."
"Oh, that's too bad," Lila said sympathetically, and her smile grew a little wider. She patted Marinette's hand. "You should rest up. The last thing we want is you getting sick before opening night."
"A word, Mlle Dupain-Cheng," Madame commanded sharply from her position near the piano, and Marinette could see Lila's expression turn positively gleeful. She avoided Adrien's concerned glance as she moved to obey, and pretended she couldn't hear the whispers that broke out behind her.
As soon as Marinette reached her, Madame said, "There is going to be an opening in the ranks at the next concours," and Marinette's head snapped up, unable to suppress the sharp inhalation. Madame gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.
"Yes, exactly. We have given you this role this season because we believe you have considerable potential, and to see how you do in a significant role. Depending on how you perform at the concours auditions, this will influence our decision on who to advance to the rank of sujet, but being late to rehearsal like this does not speak well of your commitment."
"No, Madame," Marinette swallowed. "It won't happen again."
The director of dance fixed her with a steely eye. "See that it doesn't, Marinette. I expect great things from you. Don't let me down."
Marinette finished the rest of the rehearsal feeling like a limp rag. By the time she made her way out of the stage doors, she was barely able to muster a smile for Luka, who was waiting for her in the courtyard. He shot her a concerned look as they started towards the metro together.
"Melody? Looks like it's been a heavy day. Did you want to talk about it?"
Marinette sighed heavily. "It's just little things. Stupid things, but they all add up, you know? Like ribbons that I know I stitched down and secured only a week ago fraying and giving way in the middle of class, and my sewing kit going missing, and then turning up in the rubbish. Stupid things, but they just keep happening."
She frowned down at her feet, and Luka watched her silently, waiting for her to go on.
"And I don't care what Lila says, I know I set the right alarm on my phone today," she burst out. It was also deeply suspicious, in retrospect, that Lila had been the one to hand her bag, with her phone in it, to Marinette at the end of class.
"So Lila was involved in this?" Luka asked in a carefully even tone. Marinette sighed again, her shoulders slumping even further. They'd reached the steps down into the station.
"She's always just… there, but there's nothing I can prove. I know she's talking about me. I get odd looks and odd silences whenever I walk into a room now, and she's there in the middle of it, but Adrien says – "
"Adrien knows about Lila?" Luka cut her off.
"I don't think he really believes that she's doing anything malicious."
The train appeared in a rush of air across the platform and Marinette wedged herself in beside Luka, letting herself lean against him as the doors closed. He wrapped one protective arm around her, and held onto the rail as the train jolted into motion.
"It's not like I can prove anything, and like Adrien says, it's all just talk."
Luka's mouth tightened but he didn't say anything further.
Once the train disgorged them at their stop, Luka steered her towards the river and the Liberty instead of the bakery, and they walked in tired but companionable silence. It wasn't until Marinette was curled up below deck on Juleka's rumpled bed, her head resting on Juleka's stomach and Luka handing her a cup of tea with a sympathetic smile, that she said, "Madame told me I have a shot at a promotion to sujet if I prove myself this season and I do well in the concours. And if I don't screw up by being late again."
Luka's eyebrows rose. "Wow."
"I know," Marinette said dismally. "It's incredible news."
"Is it?" Luka prodded gently, not as if he questioned her statement, but more as if he was reading her ambiguous feelings about it.
"I don't know anymore. It just doesn't feel like fun right now."
She felt Juleka snort behind her head. "Yeah, because dancing on your toes til the blisters leak through your shoes is so much fun. You weirdo."
"Like you can talk, Miss I Played Metallica Until My Fingers Bled," Marinette grumbled at her. "I'm good at what I do. It's what I am. It's just, it's always been hard, but it's never felt like work before. Why can't it be fun again?"
"It can be. You've just had so much other stuff going on that it makes it hard to remember what the music feels like when it's going right. Come on," Luka said. "We're going out tonight."
She groaned.
"A dark club, some great music, no tulle," he coaxed. "Just you, me and my two left feet-"
Marinette giggled, and gave in. "You don't give yourself enough credit. I've seen your moves."
"You know I do better with an instrument in my hands." He tugged her to her feet. "But for you, melody, I'll make the sacrifice. You need to remember what it feels like when it's just the beat and your own heart moving you."
"So embarrassing," Juleka muttered from the bed, and Luka reached down to throw a pillow at his sister.
"And you're not invited."
Behind her purple hair, Juleka rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't want to be."
There was no band at the club that Luka took her to that night, but the DJ knew what he was doing, and Marinette could feel the beat pulsing up through the floor of Le Disque. She closed her eyes in the strobing darkness and felt Luka take her hand. There was nothing perfect or practised here. This was more primal and savage, and tonight this was exactly what she needed. It drove up through the soles of her feet, pounding in time to her heartbeat and pushing all thought out of her head, and Luka's hands grounded her.
It was hours later, exhausted and sweat-soaked, when she found herself swaying slowly against Luka. She reached up to trace the edge of his leather cuff and followed the spray of cherry blossoms along his skin. He stilled under her touch.
"You never did tell me why you got this one," she said, and he bent his head to hear her over the bass.
"I've got tattoos for Ma and Jules and Rose," he told her. "Of course I want you on me too."
Even in the flashing colours of the club lights she could see the dark blush creep up his ears and the way his eyes went wide as what he'd said caught up with him. She couldn't help giggling.
"I didn't… not on me … I meant …" he broke off and blew out an embarrassed breath. "You know what I meant."
It wasn't like him to be so thrown by accidental innuendo. If she hadn't loved him before, she would have fallen there and then, watching him turning into a gorgeous, stumbling mess. Maybe Juleka was right. Maybe she was just being dumb about this. Marinette took a deep breath for courage, and raised her eyes to meet his.
"Luka, I-"
"Luka! I thought that was you!" He turned to meet the voice, and an arm cut across Marinette's vision, reaching out to brush Luka's blue tips with an easy familiarity that made Marinette shrink in on herself. The girl who swept in to kiss Luka's cheek was beautiful in leather and lace, with an edgy confidence that Marinette envied, and she wasn't someone that Marinette had met before. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."
"Celeste," he said over the noise of the club. "Yeah, I'm here with Marinette."
To the casual observer, it might have looked like the other girl noticed Marinette for the first time. The girl's eyes narrowed with a new interest.
"So you're the Marinette Luka keeps talking about."
Marinette glanced at Luka, but he was watching Celeste with an unreadable expression.
"He said you were at school with his sister, and then went into the Opera Ballet? That must be so amazing."
"It's not as glamorous as it sounds," Marinette muttered, and Celeste laughed.
She slid a mischievous look towards Luka. "Oh, I bet it is. The way Luka tells it, you're some kind of superstar. Maybe I'll get to see you in something one of these days."
"Maybe," Marinette said tightly, and Luka glanced down at her before he turned back to the other girl.
"I'll catch up with you later, Celeste," he said, and she laughed.
"Okay, okay, I know when I'm not wanted." She moved away through the crowd. In the middle of the crush of bodies, Celeste spun on her bootheel and called out over the noise, "See you in composition on Monday?"
Luka shook his head. "I've got rehearsals," he called back, and the girl gave an exaggerated pout.
"It won't be the same without you, Couffaine."
Luka was already turning back to Marinette, but any scrap of courage or hope she'd had was gone.
"I need to go home," she said around the lump in her throat, and he had to bend down to hear her. "I need to go. It's getting late."
She pulled away, and was halfway across the crowded dance floor before he caught up with her. The walk home was silent. Marinette caught Luka's eyes on her a few times, but he didn't push her to talk.
He did catch her hand as she started to unlock the bakery door.
"You know I'm here for you, melody," he said softly. "Any time, whatever you need. You can tell me anything." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Or nothing. I'm good for that, too."
She smiled back at him, but the smile slipped as he walked away, and sleep didn't come easily that night.
It was only the ironclad discipline that had been drilled into her from the day she first joined the elite ranks of the Paris Opera Ballet School that got her out of bed in time the next morning. When she pushed open the studio door, juggling a half-empty cup of coffee and her bags of shoes, practice tutu, and everything she needed to get through the day, Marinette deeply wished she could just go back to bed and pull her quilts over her head.
The sound of Lila's voice only made her longing to bury herself in her quilts that much stronger.
"Well, of course, when they offered me a permanent contract with the company I just had to take it right away, but was hard moving to Paris so suddenly like that. You've all been so sweet to me, though," Lila was simpering as Marinette walked in, and Marinette sighed, taking another swig of coffee from her cup.
Lila broke off, and called out, "Marinette! Was that you at Le Disque last night? I could have sworn I saw you with your boyfriend from the orchestra, the one with the blue hair and the tattoos. Oh!" There went the practised hand flutter of dismay, and the swift glance to make sure that Adrien had heard her. "I forgot, he's not your boyfriend, is he?"
How had Lila even been there? Had the whole world been at Le Disque? And now Alya was frowning at Marinette.
"I thought you said you weren't feeling well and you were going home," Alya said accusingly. "If you had other plans you could have just said so."
"I didn't have plans," Marinette tried to explain, feeling the weight of it all pulling at her. "Luka took me out to try and cheer me up."
"So you are seeing Luka."
"He's just a friend!" she cried, and even she could hear how unconvincing it sounded the more she insisted, even if it was true. She swallowed hard, and turned away before anyone could catch the tears that were welling up.
Even as she walked away, she could hear Lila behind her, saying with spurious concern, "I just don't think it's right for Marinette to string them both along."
"She said she's just friends with Luka," Alya said, but there was a hesitant note in her voice.
"Hmm." Lila lifted her eyes to meet Marinette's as she glanced back, with a look that made it clear she knew Marinette could hear them. "That's a lot of heavy atmosphere for just friends. I just hope Adrien doesn't get hurt by Marinette's games."
When everyone broke for lunch, Marinette retreated up to the costume ateliers rather than join Alya and Lila. She just didn't have the energy to deal with Lila's barbs and Alya's questions. Once she stepped into the workshop, the smells of fabric and dye and glue wrapped around her and she drew a deep breath, letting it go in a rush.
One of the costumiers, Nicolette, waved her scissors in greeting.
"Marinette, you're back again!"
Pascal looked up from where he was laboriously laying out a pattern of lace and glass jewels.
"Good timing," he said, and gave her a conspiratorial smile. "We just got the latest dye batch back, and Aurora's adagio tutu is fabulously stunning. If you asked Eloise nicely…"
Marinette spun on her heel to turn beseeching eyes on Eloise Marchand, and the costume director laughed.
"If anyone asks, I will deny all knowledge," she said, lifting one of the linen bags from the rack beside her. "You didn't see this, and you were never here."
That wasn't the last time Marinette sought sanctuary in the ateliers over the next few weeks. The appointments for costume fittings and the brief slivers of time when she was able to steal away to the workshops were becoming her refuge as Madame Viret became more ruthlessly critical and Alya kept pestering her about her love life, while Lila continued to undermine her at every turn. Luka hadn't managed to come and visit during rehearsals since the time that he'd met Alya, although he was there at the stage doors to walk home with her every night. It was getting harder to remember why she was even doing this in the first place.
The exquisite Princess Florine costume that was taking shape was one small reason, and after the first round of fittings, Marinette found more excuses to go and watch its progress. Adrien's Bluebird outfit was coming together as well, and through the door of the tailoring atelier Marinette caught a glimpse of Adrien, resplendent in blue, as she passed. She stopped short.
"Marinette!" he called to her, holding his arms out to show off as the tailor stepped back to eye the outfit critically. "What do you think? Do you like it?"
"Like it?" Marinette drew closer and circled him a few times, taking in all the details. His father had wrought magic with the design. It gave her a whole new appreciation for just how clever Gabriel Agreste had been with her own costume, complementing but not matching the Bluebird, and contrasting the human princess to the fantastical bird that Adrien was becoming in the hands of the tailors.
"Marinette? We lost you there for a moment," Adrien teased. Marinette became aware that she'd been running her hands over the beadwork on his costume, and she yanked her hands away with a blush.
"I'm so sorry. It's exquisite work," she said apologetically, and Adrien beamed at her.
"I don't mind having your hands all over me," he said, laughing, as her blush deepened to crimson. "I'll tell my father you like his design."
"And the overall vision is incredible!" She was lost in the costume design again, forgetting her embarrassment. She itched to touch the beading again, her hands hovering, but she kept herself at a distance this time. "Most costumiers go with actual feathers for the Bluebird, but your father's managed to suggest feathers and flight without falling into a literal interpretation. Look at the cut of the fabric here!"
Adrien was still smiling down at her.
"He probably didn't want his son sneezing all over the stage during his big moment." When Marinette looked up at him, he explained, "I'm allergic to feathers. Which is a bit ironic under the circumstances."
She couldn't help smiling back at him. "It would make things a bit difficult."
She straightened, but he caught at her hand before she could pull away.
"Won't you consider going out with me?" he asked her hopefully. "My father has preview tickets to the Style Queen event, and I'd love you to come with me. You had fun at the gala, didn't you?"
"Adrien…" Marinette tried to gently free her hand, but he kept it pressed to his heart, his green eyes full of longing. She said reluctantly, "I did, but…"
"Then think about it. Please?"
Marinette couldn't help but remember how the rehearsal had gone the last time she'd turned Adrien down. She couldn't afford that kind of awkwardness between them with their pas de deux performance and a possible promotion at stake.
"I'll think about it." She extracted her hand and retreated from the atelier before he could say anything further.
At the fifth floor landing, Lila was leaning against the wall as she flicked through something on her phone. Marinette's footsteps slowed on the stairs, and Lila looked up as she drew closer.
"Marinette Dupain-Cheng," Lila drawled. She tapped a finger against her chin. "Now, what could have taken you up to the costume ateliers today? It's not your scheduled fitting. Could it be because Adrien is up there right now?" She made an exaggerated face. "That's just sad."
"As sad as keeping track of my fittings and lurking on the staircase because you're afraid that Adrien might like me better than you?" Marinette asked pointedly, and Lila's eyes narrowed. She straightened and stepped in too close to Marinette.
"It's going to get you into trouble if you get caught hanging around where you aren't wanted," Lila said sweetly, and before Marinette could respond Lila was gone.
By the time Marinette made it back to the studio, Lila was already there. Marinette felt uneasy when she saw Lila talking to Madame Viret. The unease became something closer to dread as Lila glanced in her direction and Madame's lips tightened.
…
The first rough stage rehearsal was always chaotic, with dancers wandering all over the place. The backstage staff were everywhere, and there were pieces of set in the way. The only place Marinette could find where she wasn't being constantly hustled out of the way was front centre stage. This was going to be the first rehearsal with the orchestra too, and Marinette kept glancing back to the empty orchestra pit below, watching out for Luka.
From the stage, she stared out past the proscenium arch into the cliff face of gilt pillars and balconies and the rich crimson of the blank rows of seats. The massive chandelier in the golden heavens of the auditorium was unlit, but it still drew the eye and stray motes from the ring of lights around the inside of the glorious dome caught from time to time on the crystals of the chandelier in a faint wink of brilliance. No matter how many times Marinette had stood on that stage, it was still an overwhelming sight.
She tilted her head back, and looked up into the stage flies impossibly far above, and the network of scaffolding. The musicians were starting to make their way into the orchestra pit below the stage, and she could hear them clumping through the offstage door, laughing and chattering with the intermittent squeak of instruments and rattle of music stands as they settled into place.
She saw a glimpse of blue as Luka slid into his chair and said something to the violinist in front of him, and lost sight of him as Adrien caught her around the waist by surprise and spun her around.
"This is so exciting! Aren't you excited? I always love the first stage rehearsal," he babbled, and hoisted her up in an impromptu lift. Marinette couldn't help the tiny shriek that escaped her.
"Don't you dare drop me, Adrien!"
"I would never let you fall, milady."
Down in the orchestra pit, Marinette thought she saw Luka look back over his shoulder at them, but when she peeked, he was bent over his music stand and his entire focus was on tuning his violin. The next time she was free to look for him, she saw Lila leaning over Luka with spurious attention, and Marinette felt her stomach roll. She couldn't hear what Lila was saying, but she saw the Italian girl trail her fingers along the tattoo that ran down his arm. Luka flicked his arm free of Lila's touch and looked up, meeting Marinette's eyes.
He brought his bow up to his violin and played a quick, sinister series of notes that ended in a vibrating minor chord, and Marinette had a sudden vision of Lila twirling a villainous moustache. She put a hand to her mouth to smother the giggles that threatened to erupt, and Luka grinned up at her.
Even from the stage, Marinette could see the venomous look that Lila gave Luka, but the girl wiped it away in an instant. She put a hand to Luka's chest, and said something to him that had Luka's face turn to stone. Other musicians glanced at them with curiosity, and Luka caught Lila's wrist, peeling her hand off him.
Marinette barely heard Adrien call out to her as she hurried offstage, her pointe shoes clattering as she made her way down to the orchestra pit door. She got there just as Lila pulled the door open with a satisfied little smirk on her face. The Italian girl looked her over from head to toe.
"You know, you'd be much better off sticking to your loser musician friend there," she said. Lila had no way of knowing, but that was just about the cruellest thing she could have possibly said to Marinette in that moment.
Marinette watched her walk away with a sick feeling, and glanced back at Luka's impassive expression. As she made her way over to him, she asked anxiously, "What was that about?"
"Just a poisonous bitch trying to make trouble," Luka said, and Marinette was taken aback by the controlled savagery behind the words. He must have seen the look on her face, because his eyes softened a little. "Don't lose sleep over it. She's not worth it."
He shifted his violin, looking up at her with that sweet smile of his. "How's Adrien?"
"Adrien?" she asked in confusion. "I… he's… fine, I think?"
"He seems like a nice guy," Luka said. "And whatever happened three years ago, I think he's smitten with you now."
The thought didn't seem to be bothering Luka at all.
"Luka -"
"Hey, Luka," one of the other violinists called. "Did you- Oh. Never mind."
Her eyes shifted uncomfortably from Marinette to Luka and back again, and Marinette became very aware of the distance between them.
"I'd better get going," she said, and backed up, sliding past the rows of chairs and music stands. It took her a few moments hidden in a dark corner of the wings, and Adrien's voice calling for her, before she was ready to suck in a deep breath and get back to work.
…
There was no good reason that Luka could think of why Lila Rossi would want to slum it in the orchestra pit, so when he saw the Italian girl picking her way through the forest of music stands he felt himself tense. He kept tuning his violin, not looking up when she came to a stop beside him.
"So this is where you hide out," she said coyly, and Luka ignored her. He drew his bow across the strings and made a face at the sound, reaching up to tweak the tuning pegs. Lila seemed to be getting annoyed with his lack of response.
"You do know you're going to lose Marinette to Adrien if you're not careful," she said impatiently.
At that, he looked up, his expression cool. "What makes you think you know anything about my relationship with Marinette?"
"Oh, please!" she scoffed.
"If Marinette and Adrien are happy together then I'm very happy for them." He turned his attention back to the violin's pitch until it started to sound right. "And if Adrien is interested in another girl and not you, then why are you so determined to come between them?"
"Adrien shouldn't be wasted on some little nobody like Marinette. He's rich, he's a model, he's the heir to the Agreste fashion empire," Lila was checking them off on her fingers, "and they've practically go the frame already hung here for his danseur étoile portrait. Anyone who partners with him is almost guaranteed to make at least première danseuse."
"And what about how he feels?"
Lila gave him a look of disdain. "What about it? I need Adrien to get my contract renewed, and I am not going to let his little infatuation with goody-two-shoes Marinette stand in my way. But I want you to have your happily ever after," she said with a whiplash change of tone from disdain to sultry. She ran her hand down his chest. "I've seen the way you look at her, no matter how much you talk about friends, and I want to help you get what you want."
Luka felt his eyes turn to ice. Deliberately, he reached up and clamped her wrist, prising her hand off him. She tried to tug it free, and gave him a look of surprised fear as his grip held like iron. Without a word, he dropped her hand like garbage, and Lila backed up out of his reach. With a toss of her head, she recovered her assurance and fixed him with a smirk.
"Either way, I always get what I want," she told him, and sashayed out of the orchestra pit, sparing a nasty little smile and a whispered word for Marinette as she passed.
For the orchestra rehearsal, Luka played with half his mind on the music and half on the problem of Lila Rossi, and when everyone packed up around him at the end of the third act run-through, Luka stayed behind. He headed up the narrow slope between the upholstered seats towards the back of the auditorium and sank into one of the chairs, leaning his violin case beside him, to watch the rest of the ballet rehearsal.
From time to time Luka found his fingers tapping against his thigh along with the music in his head that was competing with the rehearsal pianist just below the stage. Right now, the voice of the director was cutting over the piano, bellowing denunciations at someone who had strayed from their allotted place.
The piano started at a shout from the director, and Luka watched Marinette begin the Princess Florine variation yet again. Lila seemed to be keeping her distance, not that that was entirely reassuring.
He startled when someone dropped into the seat beside him.
"I thought the orchestra rehearsals finished a while ago," Adrien said, and Luka turned to find the blond dancer watching Marinette. "You've known Marinette for a while?"
Ah. There it was, the point of this conversation.
"I've known her since she was seven. My sister and I used to play at some of the performing arts competitions that Marinette's ballet school entered, so we kept bumping into her, and then she and Jules ended up at the same collége. We've all been friends for years."
"And you two never dated?" Adrien asked casually, his attention still riveted on the stage. "You seem very close."
"She's never seen me that way," Luka said simply.
Marinette had freaked out and disappeared for weeks the one time back when he was sixteen that he'd worked up the nerve to tell her how he felt about her, and he'd never wanted to risk losing her like that again.
He studied the blond boy for a long moment. "Don't believe everything that Lila Rossi tells you," he said abruptly, and Adrien turned to him with a look of slightly guilty self-consciousness.
"Why are you telling me that?"
"Because Lila's out to make trouble, making out there's something more between Marinette and me than there is, and I'm not going to let her use me as a weapon against Marinette."
"That's a bit melodramatic, isn't it?"
"Is it?" Luka got to his feet. He started up the theatre aisle. "Just don't underestimate what Lila's capable of, or how much she hates Marinette."
Before he reached the top of the aisle, Adrien called softly, "You walk home with Marinette, don't you? She said she usually goes home with you."
Luka turned back to the blond dancer, waiting silently for him to get to the point.
"I've got this whole thing planned after rehearsal tonight, our first staged rehearsal, with roses and the whole works. Does she like roses?" Adrien was babbling a little self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck as he talked. "And there's a great little place I've booked for us that does an amazing open mille-feuille with Tahitian vanilla cream –"
"Does Marinette know you've got this planned for tonight?" Luka asked neutrally. She certainly hadn't said anything to him about it. For that matter, Luka found himself wondering, did Adrien know anything about Marinette? No mille-feuille or pastry, no matter how good or how expensive, was ever going to impress the baker's daughter.
"It's supposed to be a surprise. Maybe this will convince her…" Adrien trailed off. "Luka, can you do me a favour?"
…
Afterwards, Luka went back to the Conservatory rather than going home. He wasn't sure he could deal with Juleka's acute questions just then, and he didn't trust himself to be able to maintain a calm façade. The lecture halls were eerily quiet, but there were still students in the practice rooms and Luka collected a key from the front desk, and went to lose himself in music for a while, trying not to think about Marinette and what she and Adrien were doing at that moment.
It was hopeless, though, and some time later, Luka had given up on the entr'acte he was supposed to be working on. The violin had wandered into a more melancholy reverie that spoke of blue eyes and a bright spirit. He drifted with it, and it was a while before he realised that there was someone leaning in the door of the practice room, watching him.
"I haven't heard that one before," Celeste said as he lifted the bow from the violin strings. "Is that a new one of yours?"
"It's just the beginnings of an idea so far," he shrugged.
"I'm going to take a guess that it was inspired by your ballerina."
He gave her a restrained smile, and turned to put his violin back in its case without answering her. She pushed off from the doorframe and came into the room.
"Is she worth that much heartache?" Celeste asked lightly, and Luka's jaw tightened. He focused on carefully sliding the bow into its place, not trusting himself to answer her, because the answer was Yes. Always yes. And he wasn't willing to discuss Marinette and the state of her heart with another woman.
"How has she not fallen for you like all the rest of us?"
He gave a soft snort at that.
"I'm not as irresistible as you seem to think I am," he responded with his own attempt at lightness, but the notes sounded wrong in his ears, and from the way Celeste looked at him she'd heard it too.
"What you need is a night out," she told him. Before he could say anything, she held up a hand. "I know you have no interest in me like that, I got that message loud and clear in the nicest possible way, but we're still friends and what you need right now is a few drinks and a loud band to take your mind off things for a while. I just happen to know where we can find both those things."
Luka was caught out by the echo – A dark club, some great music, no tulle. Just you, me and my two left feet… He snapped the clasps on his violin case closed with unnecessary force and swivelled back again.
"You know what? That sounds good," he said, before he could think better of it.
…
Marinette had seen Luka sitting up in the back of the auditorium, watching the rest of the rehearsal after the orchestra had left, and she raised her hand in a tentative wave. Luka gave her a small smile and lifted his fingers in a return salute, but when the director finally let them go Marinette couldn't find Luka anywhere.
Her phone chimed just as she pushed open the stage doors and stepped out into the cool night air, and she felt her breath hitch as the phone lit up with Luka's name and the message that he wouldn't be able to walk home with her that night.
There was no sign of him in the courtyard outside the stage doors, but she could see a sleek black car pulled up just beyond the arches, and Adrien was leaning against it with an armful of red roses. The moment he saw her, he waved with his other hand, and she walked towards him slowly, trying to work out what was going on.
After an exhausting day of rehearsals when all she wanted to do was go home, and the one person she'd actually been looking forward to seeing had just texted to say he wouldn't be there, surely Adrien couldn't be serious? She glanced down at the phone still in her hand and back up at the blond dancer and his bouquet of roses. Was he the reason Luka had cancelled on her?
"Marinette," he called cheerfully as she drew closer. "I've come to sweep you off your feet."
"This is not a good time," she told Adrien curtly, and his smile faded, the hand holding out the roses falling, as he got a good look at her face.
"Are you alright? You're looking rather pale."
"I'm just very tired. I need to get home." She kept walking towards the metro.
He broke into a jog to keep up with her. "Then let me drive you home. You're not looking well, and it's the least I can do. I want to."
"It's alright," she insisted. "I'll be fine."
"Marinette." He swung around and stopped in front of her, forcing her to come to a halt. The roses were forgotten in his hand, scattering petals on the path now. "Just let me take you home."
She really was feeling something sinking in her stomach, and the thought of the crowded metro left her feeling ill.
"I insist."
She let him steer her into the car, divorced from her own movement. Adrien was talking, and she didn't hear a word he said. Everything felt so far away and unreal, and the roads blurred with shadows and streetlights as the driver wove through the Paris traffic. Adrien's voice was a distant crackle in her ears, but he didn't seem to be demanding an answer.
He seemed to be saying something about how much he enjoyed dancing with, how he was sure they were meant to be together, and she found herself wondering idly if Adrien would feel the same way if she wasn't a ballet soloist on the rise. What if she was a… a baker, or a street sweeper? Or one of the dozens of girls in his father's cutting rooms and workshops who probably watched the boss' son walk past without a second glance in their direction?
The car was approaching the intersection near the bakery that lead down towards the river and the Liberty, and she broke out of her abstraction with a sudden gasp.
"Stop! Stop here."
Adrien was still asking what was wrong as the car came to a halt near the curb and Marinette fumbled the door open.
"Marinette!"
"Here is good. I have to go," she managed, and was halfway down the road before Adrien could stop her. She barely kept from breaking into a run as she reached the river and the familiar houseboat docked there.
Luka wasn't there when Marinette made her way onto the Liberty, and Juleka gave her an blank look as Marinette burst into the room.
"Yeah, he texted before and said he was going out," Juleka said in response to her stumbling question. "What's going on?"
Marinette tried to give a nonchalant shrug, and knew that Juleka could see right through the act. "I was just worried. Luka said he couldn't come home with me tonight. I thought he might have been sick or something."
"He went to some gig with one of the girls from his composition class, I think," Juleka told her. "Don't know what time he's planning to be back. Did you want to wait?"
Luka was out with another woman. He hadn't cancelled on her because Adrien had asked him to, he'd had a date with Celeste. Marinette shook her head and backed away. She didn't want to know how late Luka got back from this date that she hadn't heard about, or if he stayed out all night with Celeste.
"Marinette?" Juleka was asking. "Are you okay?"
"I –" Marinette broke off. What was there to say? "I'm fine," she said unconvincingly, and when Juleka frowned at her she backed up before her friend could ask her any more questions. "It was just… never mind. I'd better get home."
…
When Luka got home in the small hours of the morning, exhausted and no less heartsick than he was when he started, Juleka was curled up on the couch with some schlock horror movie playing in the background. She barely glanced at him, but Luka had the feeling that she'd been waiting up for him nonetheless.
"Marinette was here earlier," she said to the screen, and Luka paused in the middle of trying to take off his shoes.
"Was she okay?"
Juleka shrugged. "She didn't say. Just asked if you were around. What the hell is going on with you two?"
Luka sighed and dropped onto the couch beside Juleka, running a hand through his stiff and sweaty hair.
"Marinette's been having a tough time with a bitch in the ballet corps," he told her. "She's spreading rumours about Mari, and tried to get me involved today."
"And you just left Mari instead of walking home with her? So you could go on a date?" Juleka sat up straight and glared at him. "No wonder she looked like death when she got here."
"Adrien was going to drive her home!" he protested, and Juleka's glare grew fiercer.
"What kind of gobshite moron are you?"
Luka tipped his head back against the couch and sighed heavily. "She's into Adrien, and I was trying to help. Did you at least find out what was wrong?"
"Did Ma drop you on your head when you were a baby? Or, no, she found you under a rock somewhere. Because there is no way anyone as stupid as you're being could possibly be related to me."
After a few minutes of muttering something savage under her breath, Juleka levelled a look at him through her purple-streaked hair.
"I've never asked, and you've never said, and you know I'm not into the whole messing with your life thing."
"You're an example to annoying little sisters everywhere," Luka said drily.
"But this is Mari. Are you into her or not?"
The question was a gut-punch, even while he should have been expecting it.
"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on in that stupid head of yours," Juleka snapped at him, and Luka's mouth tightened.
"You've been spending too much time with Rose," he told her flatly. "Not everything is a fairytale romance. I care about Mari, of course I care about her, but we're never going to get together like that."
"Not if you don't pull your head out of your arse, you won't," Juleka growled, and threw a pillow at him with unnecessary force.
"Just drop it, Jules," he growled back, and shoved himself to his feet. "I'm going to bed."
…
Luka wasn't at the bakery door the next morning when Marinette left for the Palais Garnier. When Adrien's voice called out to her as she crossed the courtyard, she pretended she hadn't heard him and tucked her chin into her collar, hurrying through the stage doors.
Adrien caught up with her on the staircase.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently, and once again, Marinette found herself fighting back tears. "You took off so fast last night. I was worried."
"I'm so sorry. I think all the stress of rehearsals is getting to me," she tried, giving him a wobbly smile. "You know those days when it just feels like everything is too much and you don't want to ever dance another step again."
She could see in his eyes that he didn't understand.
She danced with all her usual skill and grace notes, but Adrien treated her like glass, and when the day ended he insisted on driving her home again. Marinette didn't have the energy left to argue with him when he overruled her protests.
Marinette's eyes cut to the arch at the edge of the courtyard as Adrien escorted her out of the stage doors, but there was no blue-haired figure waiting there. On her phone was another message from Luka saying that Adrien had offered to take her home, and he'd talk to her later. She hadn't responded.
Marinette hadn't realised how obvious it was that she'd been avoiding the Liberty, or that Luka wasn't the only Couffaine she'd missed, until she opened the door of the bakery several days later to find Juleka standing there, a belligerent scowl on her face behind the fall of her hair.
"My Kitty Section costume needs mending. Can you help?" Juleka fired at her, and Marinette stepped back to let her in.
"Of course I can. You know that."
Juleka followed her up the stairs and stood there, her gaze wandering around Marinette's bedroom and the rolls of powder blue satin and chiffon that covered the couch until Marinette turned to see what was keeping her.
"New project?" Juleka asked, nodding at the pieces of pattern scattered across the desk and the beginnings of a bodice pinned to the mannequin in the corner. Marinette shrugged uncomfortably.
"Stress sewing. It's been a rough week, and I needed something to take my mind off it." She grabbed her pincushion from the desk. "So what needs mending?"
The black tunic top that Juleka shoved at her didn't seem to be much damaged. In fact, it looked as though someone had just hastily yanked the hem loose, and Marinette shot Juleka a swift look as she held the tunic up to examine it. Her friend gave her back a deadpan stare.
"Fine," Marinette sighed. "You do know you don't need an excuse to come round."
She carefully edged the roll of chiffon aside and sat onto the couch, turning the hem over. Juleka dropped into her desk chair and spun it around a few times while Marinette pinned the tunic.
Finally Juleka muttered, "You haven't been around lately. Between you and Luka going missing in action, it's been way too quiet on the boat."
"How are things going with that girl from Luka's composition class?" Marinette asked with careful casualness, pretending she didn't see the look that Juleka shot her from under her black and purple fringe. "I haven't seen him in a few days."
"He hasn't said anything to me. He's been out most nights since then, though, so… who knows what my dumbass brother is up to?"
"Oh."
Marinette pulled another pin from the pincushion and turned another section of the hem under before pinning it into place.
"I know he's an idiot," Juleka said abruptly, "but… try not to hurt him too bad."
Marinette looked up in astonishment, her hand pausing over the reel of black cotton.
"Hurt who? Luka?"
Juleka shrugged and looked away.
"This whole thing with Adrien…"
"Adrien?" Marinette cut her off incredulously. "Luka doesn't care what's going on with Adrien. He's the one who keeps pushing me to go out with him."
And it tore her heart to pieces every time. Marinette focused on the hem of the tunic so that Juleka couldn't see the tears that had welled up in her eyes. It took her a few attempts to thread the needle, and set the first stitch. Juleka sighed.
"Dumbass," she muttered, and Marinette couldn't tell who she was referring to.
"I met the girl from composition class," she said to the hem of Juleka's outfit. "Celeste."
There was a long silence. "I don't know what's going on in his stupid head," Juleka sighed.
"It's simple. He's seeing Celeste," Marinette said quietly. "He's been avoiding me and trying to set me up with Adrien because he doesn't want to have to hurt me by telling me he just sees me as a good friend. And I… I just have to accept that he's never going to see me as anything else. As long as he's happy, that's all I want."
She didn't realise that the tears had spilled over until Juleka wrapped her arms around Marinette in a tight hug.
"I'm going to kill him," Juleka muttered as Marinette buried her face in her friend's shoulder. "He may be my brother, but-"
Marinette shook her head. "Don't," she mumbled into Juleka's shirt. "It's not his fault he doesn't love me the way I want him to. I'll get over it."
She was pretty sure she wouldn't, but if the alternative was losing Luka's friendship as well, then she'd find a way.
…
"We're heading down for lunch, Marinette. Are you coming? You're not going to flake on us again, are you?" Alya asked a little impatiently.
Marinette gave her friend a strained smile, then glanced at the Italian girl standing at Alya's elbow and said, "Sorry, I need to find a quiet corner to work on the bourrées from the solo variation. They were a bit rough yesterday, and Madame thinks they need work."
She frowned down at her ballet shoes. They hadn't been feeling quite right, and she tested her weight on them, pushing her toes into the floor with a hiss.
"And I need to break in my new pair. These ones are starting to give, and my other pair are still drying." She looked around, ignoring Lila's smirk. "Have you seen my shoe bag? I could have sworn I left it near the door."
After a quick search, Alya fished it out of a pile of other bags and clothing, waving the bag triumphantly at Marinette.
"Found it! Honestly, what would you do without me? Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"
Marinette shook her head and shouldered her bag, following them out the door.
"Have fun with your bourrées," Lila called after her with a little wave of her fingers, which was odd, but when she didn't do or say anything else except link her arm with Alya as they walked away, Marinette relaxed enough to go in search of one of the smaller, unoccupied practice rooms.
One of the studios she peered in was empty, the dust motes drifting in the late afternoon sunlight that spilled in through the deep bulls-eye window. Marinette sighed and sat on the floor, pulling one of her ballet slippers out of the shoe bag, then stopped as something caught the light and glittered against the lining. For one long moment Marinette stared at it, her mind failing to process what she was looking at, and then the tiny, calm thought inserted itself – Glass. It's glass.
Her brain froze. The light skated across a larger fragment and with a jolt she realised her hand was shaking. It was a long moment before she could pull herself together enough to make the call, and no matter how strained things might have been in the past few weeks, no matter who he was dating, she knew he would still answer.
"Marinette?" His voice was deep and steady, and she drew a trembling breath. She could hear the discordant sound of instruments in the background. "Marinette, what's wrong? Where are you? I'm at the Garnier, and I'm on my way."
After he hung up, Marinette felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there when she heard rapid footsteps coming towards her, and she looked up into Luka's worried blue eyes.
"Marinette? Melody, what's wrong?" he asked, and mutely she held her shoe out to him.
There was a long beat of silence. Luka stared blankly at the slipper.
Finally, he said quietly, "Lila?"
"I don't know who else would do this to me."
She put the shoe down with exaggerated care, and shuddered, collapsing against Luka as his arms closed protectively around her. She could feel the reassuring drumbeat of his heart against her wet cheek.
"She couldn't, surely no one's sick enough to do that knowing what it would do to you if you actually put that on?" Luka's voice was rough with horror.
"No," Marinette said bitterly. "This is meant to be a warning, although I don't think Lila would have been devastated if it did cut me up a bit. If she'd really been trying to hurt me, she could have done it in ways I wouldn't have found until the damage was already done. I was meant to see the glass."
Luka's shirt was growing damp, and his arms tightened around her.
"Everywhere I turn, she's starting rumours and lies about me. She had Adrien convinced that I was lying to him about not having a boyfriend because she'd seen me with you, and she's hinting that I'd been saying all sorts of things about how he'd be good for my career. Adrien said he knew I wouldn't do that, and that it was just harmless gossip, but I could tell he wasn't completely convinced, and he's not the only one. None of the instructors smile at me anymore, and even Alya seems to think I'm holding out on her. And now glass in my shoes? I thought that was the sort of thing that only happened in stupid melodramas."
"Well, Lila does sound like a villain from a melodrama," Luka said with a half-hearted attempt at humour. "Just don't let her tie you to the railway tracks."
Marinette gave a watery chuckle. Now that she was feeling a little calmer, some odd and maybe twisted part of her was almost grateful to Lila if it meant that Luka was here with his arms around her after weeks of his absence. For this one, brief moment the world felt almost right again.
"It's not even Lila, not really. It's just… when I was sure this was what I wanted, I could brush off the people like Lila. There have been a few of them, and that's never going to stop. I could fight for what I wanted, but … why am I fighting so hard for this when I'm not even sure that I want the prize anymore?"
"I don't know, melody," he sighed, and she closed her eyes as he brushed a kiss over her hair. "I really don't know."
He gathered himself and got to his feet, and Marinette resisted the urge to pull him back. Luka leaned down for the slipper, and found its pair in her bag. His mouth tightened at the sight of more glass shards. He dropped the shoes in the nearest rubbish bin without ceremony, and Marinette watched them fall.
"I'd just darned those," she mourned inconsequentially, and Luka turned back to her.
"We'll get you new ones, melody. They're not important as long as you're okay." He reached out to tug her to her feet, and his arms closed around her again. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with something unreadable.
"We'd better get you back to the studios before rehearsal starts again," he said slowly, and his hands fell away from her shoulders. "Adrien will be worrying about you."
"Adrien?" she said stupidly, and took a step backwards. "Adrien. Right."
Luka didn't say anything when she turned and made for the door. She waited for the sound of his footsteps behind her as she headed down the corridor, but there was only echo of her own tread. He had let her go.
He had let her go.
She felt too numb to even cry anymore.
When Marinette saw Lila heading towards the studio door just ahead of her, she sped up, the numbness coalescing into pure rage.
"Lila!" she snapped, and the Italian girl spun around with one hand fluttering up to her chest. "I know what you did to my shoes. It's not going to work, though."
Lila's glanced flickered down the empty corridor.
"Oh, this was just the beginning," she told Marinette, the ingenuous look falling away like melting snow. "You can't prove a thing against me, and you'll sound jealous and crazy if you try to tell anyone about all this. Just watch how fast Adrien forgets you when I'm getting the solo roles and you're not."
"He's not some trophy, Lila!"
Lila's mouth turned up in a sly smile, but she didn't say anything in response. She simply reached out and pushed the studio door open, her expression changing as she made her entrance and left Marinette to follow in her wake.
There wasn't time for anything further as Madame began the rehearsal, and Marinette was glad that circumstances put her at the other end of the huge studio. Even so, every time she glanced around Lila's eyes seemed to be fixed on her.
The Italian girl didn't do anything more than that, though, until the rehearsal ended at seven that evening and the company broke up into chattering and exhausted groups before they headed home.
"Oh, it's so exciting!" she was saying as Marinette came up behind her to get her bags and slide her street shoes on. "I can't wait for the dress rehearsal," Lila enthused, her eyes wide and guileless. "Those beautiful costumes! Your father is a genius of design, Adrien."
She turned to Marinette, and her smile grew sharp as she said in a voice of honeyed sweetness, "You must be so excited to be wearing a Gabriel creation, Marinette. I do think Princess Florine's costume is my favourite of them all."
No one else had seen the swift, vicious smile that Lila directed at her, and Lila schooled her expression back to one of wide-eyed innocence as she turned back to the group gathered around them. Marinette fumbled a step, and felt Adrien's hand catch at her. What had Lila done?
Without stopping to think about what she was doing, Marinette broke away and ran for the door.
"Marinette?" she heard Lila's mocking concern. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Marinette?" That was Adrien's voice over the sudden rush of whispers and gossip behind her. She headed up through the corridors above the theatre, running past the empty studios and office doors towards the wardrobe department central where the costumes were collected in readiness for the dress rehearsal.
The door was unlocked. It should have been locked. Marinette could hear the odd faint voice in the other workshops from costumiers still finishing up in spite of the late hour, but Costume Central was empty, and Marinette almost ran to the rack that held the costumes for the secondary roles. She pulled open the linen bag that held Princess Florine's outfit, and a handful of beads bounced out.
Marinette stared in horror at the ruin of the bodice. It was only then, as she dimly took in the scissors that had been cast onto the nearby bench and the glittering wreckage that had been made of the beading, that it occurred to her that she had probably fallen into a trap of Lila's invention.
She wasn't supposed to be in the wardrobe without the costume director's invitation, and it was bound to come out that Marinette had spent time up there. Lila was probably counting on that once the investigation into the damaged costume got under way. The costume director would come under fire for the unlocked door and the ruined, precious costume, no matter who had caused it. And, if Lila was lucky, Marinette would be unable to perform until the bodice was repaired, although the more likely scenario was that Marinette would have to dance in another costume that hadn't been properly fitted to her. If Lila was exceptionally lucky, then Marinette herself would be blamed for damaging her own costume when she, strictly speaking, should not have been handling it at all outside of official fittings.
Marinette's hands clenched into fists at her side as she stared at the gown. How could Lila do that to this beautiful creation?
"Marinette?" Adrien's voice echoed in the corridor outside. Oh, hell, not now! She spun around to face him as he peered in the open doorway. "Marinette, what… oh, no!"
Adrien's eyes went wide as he saw the damaged costume.
"What happened?"
"Do you still think that Lila's threats and lies are all just talk?" Marinette asked furiously, turning back to the dress rack.
"You can't know that it was Lila!" Adrien protested.
"Oh, can't I?" she said through gritted teeth.
"This would ruin her career if you start accusing her without proof-"
"Her career?! What about the wardrobe staff? What do you think is going to happen to them when this gets out? What about my career? She's set me up here too."
Adrien was talking, but Marinette ignored him, focused instead on the damaged bodice. She had to think. Fortunately, Lila didn't know enough about fabrics to have done any truly irreparable harm. Marinette pressed her fingertips to her temples. The tear itself was fixable; the hard part would be repairing the mess that Lila had made of the delicate applique-work. There were two days until the dress rehearsal, when the costume had to be here and intact, and she'd spent long enough poring over every stitch and bead and embroidery flourish that she could recreate it in her sleep, which was something she would be getting very little of over the next two days.
"My father is going to be furious," Adrien said in hushed dismay. "We should… we should tell someone…"
"I thought you didn't want to end anyone's career," Marinette bit out, and Adrien recoiled slightly at her tone. She started to lift the garment in its linen casing down from the rack.
"What are you doing?" Adrien asked nervously.
"I'm going to fix this."
…
He couldn't do nothing. He couldn't let that toxic nightmare do that to Marinette and just stand by. As tempting as it was to challenge Lila Rossi about it, though, that would ultimately do more harm than good.
All of this. All of the subtle lies and nasty gossip, things going missing and Marinette's phone being sabotaged, the things that Luka had a feeling Marinette had been dealing with but staying silent about, and now this? Glass in Marinette's ballet slippers so that a manipulative bitch could claw her way to the roles she hadn't earned and a trophy boyfriend who didn't want her. And it wouldn't stop there, he was sure.
Luka strode across the campus of the Conservatory, and the music in his head was a storm. When he reached the administration offices and the Director's suite he slowed and drew a deep breath. The Director's secretary looked up as he approached and gave him a smile, waving him towards a chair, but didn't break off the phone call.
When the Director emerged from the corridors, heading for his office, Luka stood.
"Luka!" the Director exclaimed as he recognised the figure waiting for him. "Did we have an appointment? How's the Masters going?"
Luka rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "It's slow starting, sir, but I think I've got some promising stuff to follow up."
"And how's your mother?"
Luka couldn't help grinning at the question. "Still terrorising the local police."
The Director chuckled. "Anarka Couffaine, what a woman." He shook his head. "She's the reason I have a juvenile record."
He held open his office door. "But I'm sure that's not why you're here. What brings our prodigy to my office?"
"I'm having a bit of a problem with the Opera Ballet rehearsals that I was hoping you could advise me on, sir," Luka said.
"For you, my door is always open."
And for Marinette, Luka would pull every string he had in his hands.
Luka followed the Director into his office, and the door closed behind him.
Ed notes: Entree de Carabosse - the movement in Sleeping Beauty when the wicked fairy Carabosse enters and begins to cause mischief. It seemed appropriate.