Delicate, Chapter 31

On a Friday morning, a nervous young woman sat on a chair in a waiting room, trying not to fidget more than was absolutely necessary to keep from whimpering.

"You're going to do great!" Adrien told me this morning on my way out the door, Marinette fretted. Yeah, well... that's easy for you to say, maybe. You're not the one who's sat in chairs like this one dozens of times, and walked away with excuses and I-wish-we-coulds and We'll-call-YOUs ringing in your ears.

I know that I can do this job. I KNOW that I can do this! And what I don't already know about it, I can learn, quickly.

But they don't know that... or even if they do, they know dozens of other people who can do it, too.

I mean, it's not like I have nothing to fall back on... the same old chair in the same old office is waiting for me on Monday, she reasoned. It's not much, but it's money. It's steady. It's secure.

Secure because it's a dead end, she sighed. I mean, what we make DOES get used... but it's nothing like what I WANT to be doing with my life. This job here's not perfect, either... but it's at least a lot closer. "We only hire experienced designers. So we can't give you a job to get you that experience," I keep hearing. This might be a foot in the door, at last...

But I'm not going to get my hopes up too high, thought Marinette. I've run this treadmill before.

Adrien's smiling face filled her mind, encouraging her that morning... with both words and actions. She had to admit that by the time he was finished with his pep talk - well, not much talking, but his mouth was involved quite thoroughly, she giggled to herself - she felt very much encouraged.

At least he believes in me, she grinned. And I took a chance on him, on a dark and lonely night, and look what happened...

A door opened, causing Marinette to look up.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Mr. Toussaint will see you now," the secretary said.

"I'm c-coming," she chattered, trying to order her anxieties to take a hike.

They respectfully declined.

Inside the office, a middle-aged man greeted her. "Hello, Miss Dupain-Cheng! It's nice to meet you. I am Denis Toussaint, the department's hiring manager. Welcome to Debussy."

"Thank you. Thank you for seeing me," she replied, accepting his handshake. "It's a pleasure to be here."

"Ah, let's get through the interview and see how you feel then," Denis winked. "Have a seat."

Marinette sat down in the padded chair by the desk, folding her hands neatly in her lap and resting her purse on the carpet. She started to cross her legs, then stopped herself, then worked through an awkward half-crossed is-this-sufficiently-dignified? moment before resuming her initial straight-legged posture.

"All right. You are here regarding the women's-wear designer vacancies that we advertised, I understand..."

"I am."

"I have your resume and portfolio in front of me, and I have reviewed them," replied Denis. "But before I go over them in detail... tell me a little about yourself. What's brought you here today, wanting to join our organization? What should I know about you, that you bring to the table and would benefit us?"

Justify your existence in three minutes, gulped Marinette. Here goes!

Briefly, she did her best to describe her passion for design work, her creative desires and her craving for additional responsibility. "I fully understand that if I'm hired here, I am designing to and for the brand... not going out on a limb with my own ideas," she stressed. "I am a team player first and foremost, and I know that I am young and not very experienced. I am here to listen and learn and grow as a designer."

"A good attitude," Denis noted. "You have been in that kind of environment where you're working now, correct?"

"I am. I am part of a small team there, working on revisions for a variety of lines... mostly children's and casual clothing," Marinette explained. "My immediate team has three designers, of which I'm one, and a couple of bosses above us review our output before anything enters the production chain."

"...Only three designers?" wondered Denis.

"It is not what I would call... intricate work," conceded Marinette. "Necessary work, yes! A pair of jeans or a simple blouse gets worn just like a ballroom gown does. Quite a bit more often, in fact. But we aren't exactly reinventing the wheel on a daily basis... more like tweaking an established formula over and over. Once in a while, we get to make suggestions for more substantial improvements, but it's not very often."

"Grunt work, then," Denis parried.

"Some might call it that," Marinette sighed.

"Not that there is any shame in that. I held a position like that myself, when I was around your age. Though the industry was a bit different then," smiled Denis, having seen Marinette's face fall somewhat at his unappealing description. "Are you still working there?"

"I am. If I am hired here, I will put in my two weeks' notice there, naturally."

"Good. It is experience... be it ever so humble, and it's hard to turn down any steady job in this economy. It's a starting point."

Denis waited for Marinette's smile to return, then resumed his line of thought.

"The position that we have available, you'll be happy to know, does involve quite a bit more creativity. We are looking to diversify our lines, and form a new design team dedicated to taking Debussy in a fresher direction. Clothing for the modern woman; whether she is in her private office or in line at the supermarket, she should stand out and feel beautiful in our lines. We want some new faces and young thinkers to help us get there, working alongside some of our senior designers."

"That sounds wonderful," Marinette breathed. "I would love to be part of a team like that."

"I have looked over your portfolio, Marinette... and I must admit that I am quite impressed," Denis continued, flipping through its pages. "More so than I'd expected, I'll freely admit. Can you tell me about... this sketch in particular? What was your thinking when you drew this?"

"Ah! That one... okay, I'm sure that you can see the original inspiration for it, right?" Marinette began. She described how she'd pored over old magazines and photoshoots, looking for inspiration from some of the classic, timeless lines of the past... then set her mind to tweaking them to make them her own, modifying them to update them with modern styling touches, current fashion trends and her own creative ideas.

Denis engaged with her in some back-and-forth discussion of several portfolio sketches, and emerged smiling. "You have just the kind of mindset that we'd been hoping would walk in our door," he beamed. "We get so many people who come in and have either just copied existing designs, hoping that we won't notice when they pass them off as their own, or who go way off the deep end with outrageousness trying to stand out and seem unique. You are cognizant of the past, what makes the classics work and retain their appeal... but you have your own vision, as well."

"I t-try," Marinette gasped. "It's always seemed like the right design philosophy to me."

"Excellent," Denis smiled, leaning back in his chair. "That... is the good news."

Uh-oh.

"Where your portfolio shines brightly," Denis intoned, "your resume does not, unfortunately."

"I... am aware of that, Mr. Toussaint," gulped Marinette. "Meaningful experience in this field is very difficult to get... or at least it has been for me. It's a reason that I'm here today, hoping for a chance to start designing for real. So to speak."

"I am not diminishing what you have been doing; do not get me wrong there," said Denis. "You are quite correct; it is necessary work, and it pleases me to see that you are comfortable in a... shall we say... less-than-glamorous environment. Not everything that you might do here would be fun and creative, and some people turn their noses up at doing the repetitive tasks and the dirty work. I sense that you would not."

"I can promise you that I wouldn't," Marinette replied, with a sinking feeling in her chest.

"But... the competition for these positions is extremely fierce, I must tell you. We have a variety of applicants with more traditional credentials... university degrees, internships, years of freelance work, mastery of the latest CAD software," noted Denis. "I can see that you started down some of those roads... and then stopped, rather abruptly."

"A health crisis in my family. That came first and foremost," said Marinette, without hesitation. "I've been playing catch-up ever since... but the bills also need paying, so I've taken what I could get."

"As well you should have," Denis agreed. "But you do understand how this puts you at a disadvantage... I have some leeway in whom I select for this role, but it would still require something extraordinary for me to pass over more traditionally-qualified candidates."

"...I see."

Be polite, Marinette, she told herself. Be professional. It's not as if you didn't expect this.

She was considering simply thanking him for the interview and standing up to leave... when Denis added, "Which is why I am glad that something extraordinary arrived this morning."

He held up a large envelope. "Marinette... do you know what this is?" Denis asked.

"I..." Wide-eyed, Marinette was shocked into stillness. "I have no idea at all."

"It's not every first-time applicant who can use Gabriel Agreste himself as a reference."

Marinette's jaw dropped. Her eyes and her brain started screamng at each other, arguing as to whether what was in front of her could possibly be real and what to do about it.

"No... he didn't. He didn't!" she murmured, just loud enough to be heard by Denis.

"Before I describe this to you... may I ask you something, Marinette?" he wondered. "You are a highly intelligent young woman; that's quite obvious. You know your stuff when it comes to the fashion industry; your portfolio and the thought process behind it prove that. Now, having a history with a company like Agreste-"

"I... don't have a history with the company, as such," Marinette stammered. "I did have one of my designs shown on an Agreste runway once... by winning a design contest at my school. It was just a derby hat... But I have never worked for them."

"Understood; otherwise, it would be atop your resume in the largest font available," he smiled. "What I mean is... this isn't some middle-manager at Agreste Fashions giving his opinion of you. This is Gabriel Agreste himself! Any other young woman would kill for the opportunity to knowingly name-drop him in an interview, and actually have him back it up."

"And yet... here we are. I have the distinct impression that you weren't planning on even mentioning his name. Why is that?" he asked.

Marinette took a deep breath. How do I even begin to describe what little that I CAN? she wondered...

"Mr. Agreste's son, Adrien... was a close friend of mine in our teenage years," she opened with. "We shared classes together in school, and we became very good friends. It was through Adrien that I first met Mr. Agreste. It took quite a while for me to even register on his radar, right? I was a nobody. But over time, and thanks to Adrien's influence, Mr. Agreste became aware of... some of what I am capable of..."

Keep your voice steady! Marinette ordered herself.

"...and he and I began discussing certain things occasionally, and we have... something of a friendship now."

Denis frowned at that. "You're serious?" he asked. "You're on personal terms with him?"

"I am."

"Then why are you even here?" he wondered. "I mean... I would give anything for Gabriel Agreste to even know who I am. If you are personally close to him... how are you not already on his payroll?"

"He's offered. Several times," Marinette admitted. "And I've told him, 'No.'"

"Why on earth would you do that?"

Denis sat his papers down and stared at her intently, clearly fascinated. "Interview aside, I just have to know this, Marinette. Please, if you would explain?"

Welp, Marinette thought. This is why I didn't want the Agreste name involved in my job-hunting... damn it, Gabriel, what did you DO?

"Mr. Agreste and I have had some... occasional difficulties in the past," she began, haltingly. "He could be very... ah... controlling when it came to his teenage son and where he went, what he did, whom he chose to spend time with. I'm sure that you can't imagine Gabriel Agreste acting like that in any way."

"Back when Adrien was their lead model? I would be amazed if he'd let his son use the bathroom without three staff members overseeing it, yes," Denis chuckled.

"There was a time then when I was... getting a fair bit closer with Adrien, and Mr. Agreste viewed that as an obstacle for his plans for Adrien's future. We, er... butted heads in certain ways, you could say. I'm not at liberty to say much more about that."

"You were interested in fashion design... you had an in-road with Agreste Fashions... and you got under Gabriel Agreste's skin? At that age?" marveled Denis. "At any age? And you lived to tell about it?"

"We have had our ups and downs. Let's leave it at that," Marinette evaded. "We are on much friendlier terms now. The point is... actually, there are two points. The first is that I would feel uncomfortable entering into any kind of business relationship with Mr. Agreste. I have worked very hard to smooth things over between the two of us, personally; I want to keep it that way. Having him as a boss could... complicate things greatly."

She watched Denis' fascinated expression and backed up a bit. "I don't want to suggest that he is anything but a consummate professional," she gasped. "Or that there is anything professional there that you would need to know about! I don't know any of his trade secrets, or designs, or anything like that..."

"Nor did I accuse you," Denis replied. "And the second point?"

"I didn't want to take an... unfair shortcut," she said. "Getting a job because I'm close to Adrien..."

"...Are you still close to Adrien?" asked Denis.

He did things to me with his tongue this morning that I can't even begin to describe, part of her giggled, silently.

"I am," Marinette acknowledged. "Though I don't want to say too much about that, either, and for the same reason. If you want to hire me," she declared, "I want it to be because of who I am, what I can do. Not for the people I know, or for any others who might be a part of my life. I want to walk through the front door... not be carried through it by someone else's name."

Denis stared at her for a long moment, as if hypnotized.

"I... am going to read you this, Miss Dupain-Cheng," he said, quietly. "I don't want you to feel like I'm toying with you, or testing you or setting you up... though I did want to see if what you said and what he wrote matched up."

"What on earth did he write?" she gasped. "And how did he even know that I was applying here?"

Without another word, Denis unfolded the letter and began to read aloud.

Dear Reginald,

"My boss's boss's boss," Denis clarified. "This got passed down to me today."

It has come to my attention that a young woman with whom I am rather familiar is applying for a design position at Debussy. Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and this letter is intended to explain to you why your candidate search should begin and end with her.

Denis skimmed through some of the early sections, in which Gabriel described how he'd come to know of Marinette. He paused and asked, "...You designed an album cover for Jagged Stone? At fourteen?" incredulously.

Marinette nodded, anxiously. "I kind of lucked into that. Jagged is quite a character... but he's always been very good to me," she said.

"I own that album," he replied. "I never would have imagined! Okay... here's the big part..."

You may be wondering... if this young woman is such a diamond in the rough, why have I not snapped her up for myself? The answer is simple. The two of us have certain lingering personal differences; not enough to short-circuit a friendship, which has blossomed nicely, but enough to make her uncomfortable entering my employ. I assure you that the character flaws and whatnot involved are solely on my own end; I have spent many years cultivating them, and am too old and willful to change myself now. Regardless... as she chooses to look elsewhere, I would see Marinette in a role that fully utilizes her capabilities. Thusly, I reach out now to you.

I cannot give more than broad opinions of her design skills at present; I have reviewed her portfolio and approved of it on many levels, but I am consciously avoiding a deep analysis of the work of someone who may soon be a vital part of one of my competitors. Professional distancing, obviously; I do not wish for either her or my subsequent work to be compromised to the point of potential litigation! I encourage you to review her work with the same diligence that you would apply to any other applicant; I am confident that it will hold its own, and then some.

Likewise, I acknowledge her lack of high-fashion field experience and professional tutoring. While I cannot say more in this regard, I will take some personal responsibility for that; some of my own actions have been difficult for her to overcome, which I now regret most deeply. I will not disclose anything further regarding that; nor will she. Suffice it to say that things have been resolved peaceably, and I am a better person for it.

What I CAN speak out about, however, is that Marinette would be an exquisite asset for your organization... in any role imaginable. She possesses a creative mind possibly without equal, an endless well of compassion and character, and a heart as big as all outdoors, to borrow the old cliche. With the proper guidance, she will be a future star in any industry to which she sets her mind; it stings me greatly that I am unable to sway her to use her talents on my behalf.

Do not make the same mistakes that I once made... because if you let this girl slip through your fingers, you will regret it.

Sincerely,

Gabriel Agreste

"He wrote that?" Marinette murmured, startled out of her shoes. "He really wrote that about me?"

"He did," Denis confirmed. "And your reaction tells me that you had no idea that he had."

"I didn't. Honest," she managed, still reeling. "That might be the most mind-blowing thing I've ever heard."

There was a silence in the room for a moment...

"Marinette... I will be candid with you," declared Denis, leaning back in his chair once more. "There are three entry-level designer positions available on this team that we're forming... and I cannot, in good faith, recommend you for any of them."

"Ah," Marinette sighed. "Then, in that case, Mr. Toussaint... I thank you for your time. I hope that at some point, I might-"

"I plan on recommending you to co-lead it."

Once more, Marinette debated whether "hallucinating" or "gone insane" was her best descriptor. "W-what?" she stammered.

"I need to run this up the corporate flagpole, so to speak, and make sure that the appropriate people approve my decision. You understand," he noted. "But if this goes well... I believe that you ought to be paired with one of our senior designers as partners and team leaders. That way, we will have an established, experienced designer and an up-and-coming prodigious talent close together, working with and guiding our new design staff. Between the two of you, I have high hopes that they will learn and learn quickly, and blossom into something truly special."

"So... you're telling me that I should put in my two weeks' notice," gasped Marinette, barely daring to breathe. "You are, aren't you?"

"It will be on your own timetable. If you need slightly longer than that to make the transition, we can accommodate you. But we can send the paperwork to your home address once the ball gets rolling in Human Resources, probably by the end of the week."

"I'm... I'm... thank you!" Marinette gushed, hanging onto her self-control by a thread. "I... this is beyond anything I'd dreamed of hearing!"

"As for your compensation..." Denis added, "I cannot quote any exact numbers yet. Approvals and reviews and all. But I am willing to forecast that a typical paycheck will be within this range... if that's acceptable to you."

He scribbled two figures on a piece of paper and passed it across the table.

"Oh, my," Marinette replied. "That's per pay period?"

Denis nodded.

"It's a bit of an increase from where I am now... so that's more than good enough for me," she smiled, nervously. "Is that bimonthly, or every two weeks?"

"That's per week."

"You... what?"

Marinette's last reserve of professional composure sprang a leak... so obviously that Denis couldn't suppress a laugh.

"Marinette... I was leaning towards hiring you before Mr. Agreste's testimonial. I want you to know that," Denis told her, warmly. "This is not a case of, 'Someone rich and powerful wants this to happen, so I'll give her a free pass.' Your design portfolio is stellar, and you fit the profile quite nicely for the starter designer position... and I know what it is like trying to make that big first step. I had figured that I could get away with selecting you, along with two more experienced candidates for the vacancies."

"But after meeting you, seeing for myself what kind of person you are, and after that testimonial..." he smiled, "I think that I've found a much better answer."

"I... don't know what to say," Marinette replied, still not convinced that all of this was real. "I just don't."

"Say 'Yes?'" suggested Denis. "Or, I will put it this way... if for some reason, you would be uncomfortable with the co-lead position, I can slot you into one of the regular ones. About two-thirds to three-quarters of the pay rate in front of you, I would expect."

"How... about this?" she said, slowly. "Let me meet with the senior designer, and with the rest of the team when we're ready... see how the personalities fit... and maybe make it a trial for me in the co-lead role? To see if I can handle it... I wouldn't want to disappoint you in any way."

"Perfect," Denis smiled. "Easiest decision that I've had all day. Welcome aboard, Miss Dupain-Cheng!"

He reached across for another handshake, which Marinette accepted with glee, then sat down once more. "We're bringing in a whole new team in several other roles, as well, so I won't be able to introduce you to everyone right away... I need a new lead shoot designer and a creative director, for instance. That'll be that pile of resumes to go through after lunch," he noted, pointing his thumb at another stack of paper.

"Mr. Toussaint, you... need a shoot designer and a creative director?" repeated Marinette.

"Definitely. What interests you about that?"

"There's someone I know who might fit into either of those roles," she said. "Though I don't want to push my luck here... I wasn't sure that you'd even consider ME!"

"I'm open to suggestions. Whom do you have in mind?" asked Denis. "I have a window this afternoon, if they can make it here or at least give me a call."

"...May I make a quick phone call?" asked Marinette. When Denis nodded, she called up her Contacts list...

"Hey! Hi, Adrien. I'm sitting here across from the recruiter at Debussy," she grinned once he answered. "Uh-huh... uh-huh... you're not going to believe... Wait! Before you get too excited, I have a question for you."

THE Adrien? mouthed Denis, silently.

Marinette nodded back with a grin on her face. "Do you think that you could come over here right now, and bring that resume that we worked on?" she beamed. "There's someone here that I'd very much like you to meet..."

The situation clearly called for EMERGENCY PARTY MODE! And so, calls were made and voices were raised and emergency partiers were summoned, reaching critical mass the next evening.

"WOOHOO!" cried Marinette, hoisting her glass high.

The others in Gail's living room answered her toast with cheers of their own.

"Marinette... you aren't driving tonight, right?" wondered Gail, witnessing Marinette's sudden and overwhelming enthusiasm for life.

"Oh, no. No, no," she grinned back. "B'sides... I've only had two glasses of wine."

"They were pretty big glasses," grinned Jacques. "And I don't think they're supposed to be quite that full."

"We're walking back," Marinette clarified. "Just like that one night, huh, Adrien?"

"Which night was that?" he asked.

"The night that I found ya!"

"Oh."

The others watched as Adrien went from pink to red to completely scarlet in record time.

"Ohhhh," Amy crowed. "Now we have to hear this story. Where did you find him?"

"I rescued him!" beamed Marinette.

"It was the night that we reunited, after years apart from each other. And that is all that any of you will ever hear about that night. Right, Marinette?" glared Adrien, a silent prayer running through his head.

"Um... right!" Marinette grinned, miming zipping her lips. "I'll be quiet. That wouldn't be fair to you."

"I think that one more glass of wine would get it out of her," Jacques theorized.

"Maybe?" she smiled, guilelessly. She held out her glass, briefly...

Seeing Adrien's expression, Marinette retracted her statement by waving her hands out in front of her. "No. No story, and no more wine tonight. I am going to stop before he does have to carry me home. I don't mind being a little buzzed, but I don't like plastered."

Gail looked over at Adrien, who showed her his glass. "Just lemon seltzer," he smiled. "Just in case."

"Besides," Marinette giggled, "Adrien is a gentleman. He'd never take advantage of me if I was drunk. So I'm going to stop before I'm drunk, so that he will later."

That drew a round of laughter from all.

"We'll see," grinned Adrien. "I'll give you a test when we get back; a little math, some geography. If you pass it, we can do that."

"One plus one is..." suggested Peter.

"Eleven!" Marinette declared.

"Close enough," said Amy, which set everyone off again.

"Seriously. I'm done," Marinette told Peter, as he prepared to pour another round. "I really don't want to get too far gone tonight... but thank you."

"Do you want a seltzer, like Adrien has?" he asked. "We have raspberry-lime, lemon and grapefruit, I think."

"Grapefruit," smiled Marinette. "That sounds good."

"Coming up," he said, retreating to the kitchen.

"Marinette..." Amy said, "I am so happy for you... but work just isn't going to be the same without you! I'm going to miss you so much."

"The feeling is mutual," Marinette declared. "But, hey! It's not like I'm disappearing. You all have my number, you know where I live. We'll get together just like this and hang out and do things. I'm always just a text message away."

"Still... I agree with Amy," Gail added. "We'll still have each other there, of course, but it's one thing to be friendly with your coworkers. It's another to make genuine friends among them... and we did that. That's rarer than you might think."

"Ohhh," pouted Marinette. "Don't you make me cry over this..."

"Certainly not what I intended," Gail soothed her. "This is a wonderful thing for you, and it isn't saying goodbye to us. You can't get rid of us that easily, dear."

"I wouldn't want to try," she smiled.

"And it doesn't hurt that you might be working with your boyfriend at the new place!" Amy beamed. "That'll be quite an upgrade."

"Well, maybe," Adrien pointed out. "I don't have the job yet. I'm getting a more formal interview next week."

He grinned, adding, "I am keeping in mind that they hired Marinette on sight... but I'm going through the normal process."

"Keeps the ol' ego in check, huh?" Jacques noted.

"Yep," Adrien laughed. "Very much so."

"You know they'll hire you. How can they not?" Marinette insisted. "Just look at you. You're perfect."

"Hardly!"

"Or... you could get your dad to write a very nice letter about you. Like he did for me. Maybe that's the trick," she giggled.

"I don't know... I think that he likes you better," Adrien deadpanned.

"And that reminds me," interjected Marinette, with mock indignation. "I didn't ask him to write that... I didn't even tell him where I was interviewing. So don't think I don't know who told him!"

"I told you, I'm sorry about that!" apologized Adrien. "He asked me, I answered. I didn't even think about it at the time."

"I forgive you. I have to admit that it helped, so I must thank him later," she admitted. "Though I might take it out on you later."

"Might," quipped Peter, returning to the table with Marinette's drink.

"You two are just the cutest together. It's almost disgusting," Amy groaned. "Though it's fun to watch."

"Which position are you hoping for more, Adrien?" asked Gail. "And don't you even, Amy."

"I'm... not sure," Adrien replied. "From what Denis told me, it's a pretty sure thing that they'll want to hire me in some capacity, once I convinced him that this wasn't some kind of trap for my father to litigate a competitor out of existence, or end up buying them out. But... they'd hire me as a model instantly, but I kind of need to prove that I can do shoot-design or creative direction. And I can't blame them there; those are both very important roles."

"Perhaps a blend, if that's possible?" suggested Jacques. "Let us say, a shoot designer who models in those photoshoots where appropriate?"

"It's possible, I guess?" wondered Adrien. "But I would rather concentrate on one or the other, and I think that they'd prefer that, too. This is a professional company, and they'll take this very seriously... and there is a lot more to modeling than just looking pretty."

"Though it helps," Amy smiled.

"Though it helps," Adrien admitted, sheepishly. "So they tell me."

A little while later, Gail and Marinette found themselves alone in the kitchen, talking quietly.

"Part of me really doesn't want to go," Marinette admitted. "The work itself hasn't been the greatest... but working with you and Amy has been wonderful."

"You are not to even think about feeling bad about this," Gail ordered her. "It's a great opportunity, and I've been telling you to go after something like this for a long time now."

"You have... but still," sighed Marinette. "You're completely right about what you said about making lasting friends. It's a lot harder than it seemed when I was younger."

"Like Adrien, for instance?" Gail asked. "I know how much you'd missed him while he was away... both sides of him... and how overwhelmed you seemed when you reunited."

"Adrien always was... my one that got away. The brightest star in my life, the one where I kept asking myself... did I do something wrong? Did I have any part in why he left? And it was such a relief to find out that there were other explanations... and once I found him again, I was never letting go. Can't fool me twice," she grinned, momentarily. "But in general, too."

"Like, for instance... the year that I met Adrien was really special for me," she explained. "Our class was really close-knit, more than I'd ever felt before. Almost everyone in it just seemed to connect so well. Of course... that was the year that I became... you know..."

"Mm-hmm," Gail confirmed, without saying what she knew out loud.

"So maybe that was part of it. That Hawkmoth kept using our class for target practice, and we bonded because of that. But it was more than that, I think... and it helped me come out of my shell, a lot. I felt like the friends I made there - some really good friends - that it was all going to last forever."

"...And?"

"Well... we're all still friendly," Marinette declared. "If I run into some of them around town, or say hi to them on Facebook or something, we still get along great! But everyone kind of... scattered. Some of us ended up going to different lycees, or to different universities, or just to different classes in general in later years. After graduation, many of them left Paris. Some wanted to travel, some found careers somewhere else, some just wanted to get away. I've got strong roots here... my parents, for instance... and not all of them had that sort of thing to keep them here."

"And then you met new friends in later years of school, and they kind of drifted away, too..." Gail suggested.

Marinette nodded. "And now that I'm creeping up on adulthood... the number of people I see on a daily basis is that much smaller," she replied. "And they all have lives of their own. I'd rather have a few very close friends than a whole bunch of friendly acquaintances... but it can be so hard to find either any more."

"It's all part of growing up," Gail assured her. "I know just what you're talking about; I've felt it, too, and I'm not that much older than you. And changing jobs like this isn't the last big change you're getting ready for, either."

"You're not kidding there," Marinette breathed.

"I mean, maybe not of them all right away. I talk to my mother a couple of times a week, and she always asks, 'Did he ask you yet?' about Peter proposing. I say, 'No, Mother,' and she goes, 'Why not? What did you say to him?'"

That got a giggle out of Marinette.

"And I tell her... we're going at our own pace. And that has enough stresses in it already," Gail continued. "Do you think that I didn't sweat it out when Peter and I decided to move in together?"

"Well, Adrien and I kind of already are... in a way..."

"You're spending most of your time together. You're inseparable. That's different," Gail pointed out. "When you make it official, and you have keys made, and you fill out change-of-address forms and forward your mail, and you look at each other every morning and realize, 'This is a commitment I'm in,' it can make your eyes go 'wow.' And you happen to have a lovely young man who simply adores you, who just bought a house... which tells me that he's not going anywhere, and he'd like you to come with him sometime soon."

"...Yeah, to all of that." Marinette took a breath, then added, "And I want that... and I'm a little scared of it, too."

"Let me give you one bit of advice..." said Gail.

"Like you're already doing? And, please, don't stop. I'm completely listening."

"As far as the people that you find yourself missing... and I'll try hard not to be one of them," Gail smiled, "your phone number hasn't changed in a while, right? Your address, your email, all that's the same? Your parents' bakery is still in the same place... so people who want to track you down can do that?"

"Uh-huh," Marinette confirmed. "Which is part of how Adrien found me after I found him and we... um..."

"I don't know that I want to know about that first night," laughed Gail, throwing her hands up. "But that tells me that those people are going through the exact same thing. It's not that they don't want to hear from you... they just got caught up in their own lives, in new experiences, new people, new places. Just like you."

"That makes sense."

"So when it comes to getting your mind straight... don't worry too much about the past or the future. Ask yourself... what can I make better today?" Gail suggested. "What'll make tomorrow just a little bit better? Who's out there that I want to hear from, where I can just reach out and say 'Hi!' and remind them that I'm alive? We do live in a marvelous age, where most people are just a few keystrokes away."

"Also very true..." mused Marinette.

"And for the other stuff, if you take a big step, and it feels right to you... you'll know it. If it doesn't... you can still work to make it better. One bite of the apple at a time," offered Gail, "rather than feeling like you have to gulp down everything at once."

"I like the sound of that," Marinette smiled. "And if someone has to reach out and reconnect old friends together... it might as well be me. Someone's got to go first."

She stepped forward and gave Gail a huge hug. "Thank you," she murmured. "That gives me things to think about...and it'll help me sleep tonight."

"I'll be right here, any time you need me. And I'll keep you up-to-date on what the latest insanity is at work. And we'll all get together at intervals, just like this," Gail comforted her. "And as for your old school friends, do you know another reason that you'll want to look them up?"

"What's that?"

"They're all going to want to come to your wedding."

Marinette laughed at that. "Oh, I know they will," she replied. "And I'll get to work on that contact list."

She returned to the living room, with the others... only for a second figure to step quietly into the kitchen, from just outside the doorway.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," Adrien told Gail. "But I didn't want to interrupt you two, either."

"...And sometimes girl-talk brings out things that even young lovers have trouble talking about together," smiled Gail.

"...I'll agree with that, too," Adrien replied, nervously.

"You didn't hear anything that stunned you, right?" Gail asked him, keeping her voice low. "You two are on the same page about things?"

"No, we're good," said Adrien. "Marinette has been very open with me about where she's comfortable, and where she's nervous... and I have, too. But... sometimes it helps to hear her say it in different words."

"Good. That's the key to everything... if you're both honest, you can't go too far wrong," she smiled. "And, Adrien?"

"...Yeah?"

"You'll notice that when I said 'your wedding,' she never even blinked."

Adrien gave her a genuine smile. "You're absolutely right," he beamed. "Something else that I knew... but it's always good to hear."

"Now, let's get back to the party," Gail prodded him with a wink, "before anyone comes looking for us and wonders what we're talking about."

Marinette Dupain-Cheng walked slowly down a side street later that evening, taking the long way around to her apartment, her loving boyfriend by her side.

"That was such a nice night," Adrien declared. "Still is. How are you feeling?"

"Why, am I walking funny? I could dance, if you want me to," Marinette trilled, strutting momentarily, then burst into laughter. "Much better. I am so glad I stopped the wine when I did. I might have a headache in the morning... but I'm feeling clear now," she told him.

"Good. Because I wouldn't want my girlfriend wandering the streets at night, easy prey for men of low integrity and bad intent."

"Get me home," she grinned, "and I'll show you who's 'easy prey' tonight."

"Someone's feeling a little revved up," Adrien declared, not disapproving.

"Ohhhh, yeah. And I still have to thank you properly for this morning."

"As I recall... I was very happy this morning, too. Or are you forgetting when I climbed on-"

"There's no forgetting that," Marinette beamed. "But I think someone needs some... special attention."

"Before we do that... I want to tell you something," Adrien said. "I... overheard you and Gail talking in the kitchen tonight."

"Oh?" she replied, pausing their stroll. "I mean, I don't mind that you heard... and I don't think that I said anything, um, that should bother you?"

"No, you didn't. We've talked about all those things ourselves, several times. I don't have any worries at all," he clarified. "But even though I've said it before, I just want to make triple-sure that you know... that I'm never going to push you to move things forward faster. I'm so happy with how we are right now that it's scary."

"You are so patient with me. One of many reasons that I love you," cooed Marinette.

"And I have my own nervous moments, too. But we'll get through them together," Adrien encouraged her.

"C'mere," Marinette beckoned him, pulling him close. "Then I want to make triple-sure that you know this. Adrien Agreste... I am in love with you. I've loved you since I was fourteen years old. It's done nothing but grow bigger and deeper, all this time. And I may not be engaged to be married to you yet... at the sending-out-save-the-date-invitations stage, at least... and I might not be living with you in your new house yet."

"...Yeah?"

"...But I'm gonna be."

"You certainly are."

Their kiss was like something out of the end of a movie; long, tender, and perfect.

Perfect, that is... except for the thumping rock music in the distance, rather than an orchestra performing some sweeping string arrangement.

Breaking the kiss, Marinette looked down the road... and her eyes narrowed.

"Well, well, well..." she declared. "Look who's back in action."

Adrien saw an old, dilapidated house with people spilling in and out of the front door, music blasting, a party obviously in progress... and blanched. That's the party house that I was at, the night that Ladybug found me naked and handcuffed... and we made love for the first time... and she threatened dire vengeance on those responsible.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no," he muttered. "I have to hope that... what they did to me that night... was a one-time thing. We, uh... I don't know if we have to go after them tonight..."

"They had handcuffs. They had cameras. They had a set routine," Marinette snarled. "Are you going to tell me that you don't think that someone else is getting prepped to be humiliated tonight? Or something worse?"

Adrien closed his eyes, and gripped Marinette's hand tightly. And if someone is in trouble in there... what would it say about me, if I just stood by and let it happen?

"You're right, of course. I feel like we do need to do something. What comes to mind?" he asked.

"Oh... I've got something very special in mind for them. I have ever since that night happened," she declared, a chill in her voice. "We're going home first. I'm going to need a certain Miraculous, and so are you. And I'm going to have Tikki judge how sober I am."

"You seem pretty clear to me..."

"That's just it," Marinette said, with a wicked grin. "To do what I have in mind to set this up tonight... I might need to be a little bit drunk to have the courage."

Adrien studied her face... and saw a look of sheer determination. The kind that he'd learned over the years meant one thing... hang on tight!

"Lead on, my Lady," he smiled. "Tell me the plan along the way."