Fifty-Nine: Schedule Adjusted

Author's Note: Mulling over Ladybug's plans for the superhero wedding, Chat's alter-ego unexpectedly has a mini-crisis to deal with at work.

I arrived at House of Gabriel twenty minutes before the first meeting of the day. Landing in a crouch atop the building, I paused for a moment to let the full plan Marinette had weaved out of nothing percolate through my fur brain a little bit more. As crazy as it had initially seemed, I had to admit it was about as brilliant as the very best of her Lucky Charms – and if we managed to pull it off, we'd still wind up married, too. As I stood to walk toward the rooftop stairwell entrance, I shook my mane a little; there were still some of the finer details to work out, but I knew I had the first part of the script to execute.

Considering how little sleep I'd gotten, I needed caffeine; a meter or so from the door, I pulled out my baton and confirmed I had enough time for a quick side trip. For without the elixir of life, there was a good chance I'd screw up Ladybug's plan out of the gate.

Keeping the baton handy, I turned and ran to the edge of the roof, helicoptering up and away; my destination wasn't all that far, but to save time I ran full-tilt along the rooftop of the first building I hit, then leapt upward into a double-twist to land on the next one without breaking my stride. Tail flapping behind me, I crossed a final alley in a vault-to-extended-baton move, arching downward toward a particular downspout I was able to nab with a paw; a gentle release and I'd dropped to street level in a cat-crouch beside the kitchen door of the Dupain-Cheng Bakery – the very same one I'd entered some fourteen hours and change earlier.

Tapping my claws against the door, I stood as Sabine swung it wide. "Madame," I smiled.

"Good morning, Chat," Sabine replied, a warm smile on her face. "Are you here for breakfast? I'm afraid we've sold the last of your favorite quiche."

I shook my wild mane. "Just coffee today, if I can. Ladybug and I were out quite late last night, and I need something to jumpstart my brain."

Sabine looked concerned for a moment as she beckoned me into the kitchen. "Everything all right?"

"Oh yeah," I nodded as I leapt to an open stool and perched as was my custom, tail twitching in anticipation of the special blend of coffee Tom had perfected. Unsuccessfully stifling a yawn, I continued. "I'm more worried about the day ahead for my civilian alter-ego, to be honest."

"Well, let me see if we can't save you," she laughed. "Stay right there."

I nodded again and let my masked eyes follow her out of the kitchen and into the shop proper; feline ears picked up the cheery sounds of Tom getting an order ready for a customer, as well as the low murmur from the morning rush. I wasn't surprised at all, for the tiny bakery truly was one of the best in the city. As I waited, I scanned the kitchen to ensure we'd erased all evidence of our nocturnal baking and smiled, satisfied that nothing was out of place.

Sabine returned with an oversized takeaway cup which my feline nose easily tagged as the flavorful blend and a small package topped with a bakery bag that (per my nose) contained at least one Belgian Chocolate croissant. "Uh…" I said as she handed everything to me. "I—"

"It's hard not to spoil my daughter's cat," Sabine laughed.

"Sabine," I replied, tilting my head slightly and looking at her slyly, "you keep feeding me like this and I'll never stop coming back."

"That, young man, is kind of the point."

"You've been warned," I laughed before leaning down to give her a quick kiss. "Let me get my wallet—"

"Nonsense," Sabine waved me off as I tried to retrieve my baton and the emergency stash of Euros I kept inside. "On the house."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she nodded; she turned toward the shop as we both heard Tom calling. "Gotta go."

"Same," I said sadly. "Thanks."

It took a bit of doing, but I managed to get everything back to my office with nary a spilled drop of coffee; a few minutes before nine, Adrien Agreste became the hero of the administrative suite when I shared all but the croissant and coffee with my staff. Settling in behind my desk, I'd just managed to tear off a portion of said pastry when Tomas appeared, frowning. I tried not to swallow the amazing work of art whole, but he looked so upset it was hard not to. "What happened?" I asked.

Tomas hovered at the door. "I hesitate to bring this to you, Adrien, but the design staff are still waiting on the sketches from your father."

"For the Christmas collection? He was supposed to get that to them, what, before I went to Nice?"

Tomas nodded. "Yeah. I don't need to tell you the schedule…" he trailed off.

I groaned. Most people outside the industry had no idea how far in advance we worked; it was barely July but we were fully into our preparations for the largest sales period of the year, while beginning our preliminary Spring show work. My work before leaving for our vacation had catapulted the partnership pieces into demand, and though it was a start, those were not enough to fill the void of what we typically needed to offer over the holidays. "Damn," I groaned again. "And you've called his assistant?"

"Nathalie says he's already turned them in. And that he's too busy to figure out who misplaced them."

"Likely story," I sighed. "Okay," I continued as I stood. "Let me go rifle his office; hopefully they are there. I'd not like to have to put in an appearance at the mansion."

He nodded as I slid past him. "You have a meeting—" he started, pointing to his tablet.

"I think this takes precedence."

"Good point. I'll clear your morning."

"Thanks," I replied as I strode down the glass-walled hallway toward the corner suite that belonged to Father.

Unsurprisingly, there was no one at the assistant desk, nor did I find anyone inside his massive office when I slid the door open. Father spent as little time as possible at Corporate, preferring his sanctum at the mansion – something that hadn't changed in the years since Mother disappeared. The space was spartan, to put it mildly. Aside from the single desk in a corner, the walls were bare and there were only a few commercial works on fashion in his bookshelf. The view from the massive windows, though, was something else altogether; they looked down on a portion of the Seine that flowed past the building, and the Tower was visible in the distance. It was a shame no one could enjoy the space.

A quick search turned up absolutely nothing, and I frowned as I realized I would need to corner Father at the mansion. Pushing my way out of the office, I caught Tomas at the edge of mine. "Nothing," I said sadly. "I've got to go see him. Cancel the rest of my day, if you don't mind."

"Will it take that long?"

"Hopefully not," I smiled grimly. "But I'll need the time to decompress."

Note to readers:

One of my favorite aspects of writing fan fiction is the thoughtful feedback I receive from readers. I'm sure I'm not alone in posting new content and then breathlessly waiting to see what appears in the comments; even with stories such as Roommates, where I have carefully plotted out nearly everything, there will often been an observation that will have me scratch my chin and adjust the storyline ever-so-slightly. Unlike my novels, it's an organic process that I truly appreciate.

So when what I thought was a clever (and long-planned) twist appeared in this chapter, the reaction wasn't what I expected. While I had intentionally made use of something from canon, the comments made me look at it more critically and, ultimately, decide to revisit the concept entirely. Unfortunately, pulling that loose thread has unwoven the next few chapters. Rather than make you wait for the rewrite, I am re-posting this chapter up to what is a natural break; hopefully by next week, I'll have dug myself out of this mess.

-ep