Honestly, it could have been worse.
The empty apartment was a cold solace to her after the hellish day. Boxes were scattered everywhere, things half put up. Sam expected her dad to be there when she got home, but instead found the lights out. Instead of worrying, she went about her business, unpacking the boxes in her room and feeling overall numb from her emotional day and all nighter. The living room was mainly unpacked, but her room was a disaster area.
Placing all of her things in the corners that she imagined they would go best, she started the menial tasks of taking everything out and placing it accordingly. Ugh, this day. She couldn't wait to go to bed, but she wanted to see her dad before she did. She was feeling a bit hungry after just a bit and stopped working to look around for a snack. Of course, entering the kitchen, there was nothing until she remembered the baggie in her backpack.
She went to her bag and pulled the baggie out. It was closed with a sticker and with some careful coaxing, she peeled it away. Inside the bag were little baked treats. She didn't know what they were called, but touching them, they had a crust around them made of a crystallized sugar. Carefully, she took a bite of one and was surprised to find a light, vanilla flavored cream on the inside. She was lactose intolerant, but what the hell. She finished two more and eyed the bag to count how many were left. She wanted to save some for her dad whenever he got home. One, two, three, four… and a pink piece of folded paper that she hadn't noticed tucked under the pastries. She pulled it out and unfolded it, a note in cursive revealed nothing to her. It was all in French except the name signed at the bottom, which she recognized from the blonde. Marinette.
She wished she could read.
Instead, she tucked it away in her pocket and set the baggie on the kitchen counter. Looking around, the floor to ceiling windows were lovely and overlooked a rooftop terrace. It already came furnished with a simple lawn chair, pretty fancy if you ask her. In the distance, she could see the Eiffel Tower against the skyline. There it was, so surreal to her since the last time she woke up she was in Georgia and she hadn't even slept yet. In the morning, she'd wake up in Paris.
The sound of the front door opening snatched her away from her thoughts.
Her dad walked through the door, arms laden with plastic grocery bags. He was in full uniform, his cap and all were faded green camouflage down to his taupe lace up boots. He smiled and stepped through the door, struggling to shut it behind him.
"Hey Rocky, what's up. Mind helping me out with these bags." He asked but she was already ahead of him, wading around the sea of stacked boxes to lighten the load.
Rocky, he always called her that. A nod to the popular American film featuring a boxer, it was what he called her since she started kickboxing. She hated it at first, but it grew on her like mold. They both laid the bags on the kitchen floor, and began the work of unloading all of the items that needed to go into the refrigerator.
"So, tell me about school. How did you manage?" he asked, a sympathetic look already on his face. She took a deep breath.
"It was somewhere between an inconvenience and a disaster, if I'm being frank. Of course, I didn't understand anything anyone was saying to me at all. There was a miscommunication with the enrollment and I wasn't even supposed to be dropped in the classes that I was so early, apparently. I was supposed to have French class with my other classes but there was an issue with the online schedule. And how did I learn this? A student who spoke English had to translate my entire conversation with the student representative and principal for nearly an hour. And that was after I had given everyone the cold shoulder all day, including him." She vented, but forced a spiteful smile. "But hey, one girl felt so bad for me she went home, was late to class, and brought me a goodie bag." She pointed at the baggie on the counter. She had conveniently left out the part about her crying in front of the whole class. She knew it would only make her dad feel guilty and he already felt that enough.
"Goodie bag?" he asked, his interest piqued.
"Ugh, dad." she rolled her eyes with a smile. "I did save you some but that's not the point. The point is that Monday is going to be rough, that's what. I'll have to somehow fix whatever hole of a reputation I dug myself for being the one dumb American who can't speak French and hope that I can study up on French enough this weekend to at least be able to thank that girl and the guy who helped translate for me."
"So you have a goal, that's good. I'll have the whole weekend to help you study and pronounce stuff, if you want?" He reminded her. He had been deployed in France years and years ago, but she was too young to travel with and that was when her mom was around. Her dad knew French pretty well already, so at least she had him to help her when he was around.
"Yeah… I'd like that. Not tonight, though. I've heard too much French today and just need a mental break." She half laughed when she remembered something. "Oh right, can you read something for me?" Sam was already pulling out the pink paper when he nodded.
Handing it to him, his eyes scanned the paper and he smiled to himself before he read it.
"It says "Welcome to our class. I wanted to share with you the vanilla cream chouquettes that were made fresh today in my family's bakery. I thought they'd be perfect bite sized snacks for you. I hope that they are as sweet as I want our future friendship to be. Signed, Marinette." Wow, Rocky, you got sweets and a new pal." His eyes wide.
The words of the letter set with her for a moment as she mulled them over. Wow, that was the first time in a long while that someone was that nice the first day of class. Each time she moved, it was never less than a week that someone would do any sort of gesture like that, if at all. Her dad handed the letter back to her and she stared at it for a moment. If she wasn't in front of her dad and wasn't so emotionally tired, she might have teared up. Two acts of kindness in one day, one from Marinette and the other from… what was his name? Alex? Aiden?
Adrien.
She felt a twinge of guilt at recalling each and every time he had attempted to communicate with her through the day. Each time she had been unable to understand him and yet she was too scared and upset to do anything. No smiles, no wild hand gestures, no pictionary. In retrospect, it was dumb of her to think that wallowing in pity and staying painfully silent and aloof would help her situation and then the guy still stretched a helping hand out to talk to her and translate the whole ordeal with her scheduling. After it all, she didn't go back to class and instead went to talk to her French teacher, the only other person to be able to speak English within the whole school. When she waved goodbye to Adrien, he didn't even seem bothered with the stress of helping her. Maybe he had just wanted to get out of class but it didn't strike her like that. It felt like kindness, and whether it was meant as such or not, it held just as much weight to her as the delicious chouquettes.
Her dad laughed and took her out of her thoughts.
"You should go to that girl's bakery and reach out to her. The logo is on this bag, so it won't be hard to find." he suggested, already digging into his share of the chouquettes. Gingerly, she put the paper away and folded her arms, the task of putting away groceries was forgotten.
"Uh-huh, you just want me to bring home more goodie bags." She accused, "I see you. You're not fooling me." She smiled. He shrugged as he took a bite.
"Mhmh so what?" he said with a mouthful, "Oh these are yummy… and cream filled. Sam, did you eat a lot of these?" He asked. Uh-oh, busted. She wasn't supposed to indulge too much in dairy-filled treats but it was so hard. He only scolded her because she had no self control and would end up suffering for her love of ice cream.
"I mean… Not many… three." She admitted. He nodded his head side to side.
"Shouldn't be too much for you. Hey, I got something to show you that might cheer you up." He added, forgetting the puffed sweets on the countertop and rummaging through some of the plastic bags.
"Aha! Found it!" He declared and pulled out two boxes. The label was in french but the picture on the box showed what they were. Hammocks! "Come on, we'll get the rest of the groceries in just a minute. Let me show you what I was thinking." he urged, wasting no time in swinging open the glass sliding door to the terrace.
The sky was begging to show the first signs of dusk, a pink hue lighting up the patio and the skyline. Stepping out into the fresh air was so grounding. Again, she didn't fully grasp that she was in a different country, in Paris. The terrace was all floored with a light ashen stone and the edges were fenced in with curled ironworks. It reminded her of New Orleans, but of course it was the source of the style of architecture.
"So you always said that you wanted hammocks growing up and that you wanted to have one between two trees? Well, I can't do trees but this patio is perfect for stargazing." He stated, placing the two boxes on the ground where he intended for them to go. "Imagine it. We could get a small fire pit and roast marshmallows or weenies and it'll be just like camping. And, if you want, your punching bags and roll out mats if you ever want to practice outside. This is the closest thing we have to backyard." he said, looking up at the sky, a satisfied look on his face.
He was trying so hard.
In honesty, she hadn't been thrilled at the news that she'd be moving to another country to possibly spend her senior year in. Neither of them really knew how long they'd live there. It could be a few months, it could be much longer. Where she was apprehensive, her dad had been super excited. He loved France and had told her and her sister all about his favorite places to visit, tales of old friends, and of course his favorite dishes. She never thought she'd ever see it firsthand and so far, she was both overwhelmed and underwhelmed. Overwhelmed because this was all too much for her right now. Underwhelmed because the magic of Paris that her dad and literally everyone else under the sun described felt like nothing to her. It didn't feel different yet. Whether she felt it or not, didn't matter. She was where she was and being negative wouldn't help her dad any. She didn't want to ruin this hype for him.
"Sounds nice, dad. This is high up enough that we could literally sleep out here. I doubt some lunatic would be able to climb five stories to steal a nap in our hammocks." she half joked.
"Oh yeah. If someone ever did get up here, you know the drill." he said with a wink. Right. Find the pistol in the house. Shoot first, question later. She had heard it her whole life.
"Uh-huh. Maybe I'll sit out here tomorrow and study my language skills in the hammock." She thought aloud.
"After you get your temporary ID. You have to take a picture and everything. That's at nine tomorrow, by the way." His announcement was less than desirable to hear.
"Ugh wow no sleeping in." She moped and faked a pout. He dipped his head to the side as if thinking.
"Don't be so upset. In France, you can buy alcohol at your age." He teased.
"Oh right, I'm gonna throw parties when you've gone on duty. I'm gonna have all the French wine." She gave sarcastically. He titled his head back and laughed, before his face turned serious.
"Don't. I will permit a limited, very moderate amount of adult beverages only on special occasions. Any other time, forget it. You're still not twenty one yet, Rocky." He warned, but as friendly as he was, she knew he was serious.
"But it's France, dad! What else will I brag to my sad, sober American loser friends about?" she completely joked. He shook his head and turned around, waving his hand.
"No. Nope. Let's go finish putting up groceries before the fish thaws." He changed the subject.
"Get turnt in France, dad!" She joked again, a smile spread across her face as she turned back towards the sliding door.
As she turned, something at the far end of the terrace caught her peripheral vision. A black shadow, a fast blur. When she jerked her head back to look, there was nothing there but she swore she had heard a noise. A faint jingling noise that only sounded for a second. She looked around and saw nothing. She was… seeing things. Surely, that's it. She had pulled an all nighter and she just thought she saw something dart over the terrace.
"Sam?" Her dad called out and she shook it off.
"Coming!" She called back and went off after him, and back into the cool air of the apartment.
((A/N: For clarity sake, no Chat Noir is not intentionally creeping on the terrace. He merely ran across the terrace to get from one place to another. He's not like stalking anyone and he doesn't even know that she lives there yet. ))