To Geft: It is absolutely a possibility…
Chloe sighed, cutting off a bit of her duck and putting it in her mouth daintily, looking around the outside seating patio of the small bistro she had chosen. Fairly new, it had only opened a couple of weeks ago, taking over a building that had been left vacant when the previous restaurant had been forced to close during the shutdowns before the Tarasque's appearance. Although she had enjoyed that restaurant, something about the simpler and more rustic fare appealed to her. After all the chaos and confusion the Tarasque had caused – after the wild changes of the last couple weeks – simplicity tasted so much better than haute cuisine.
It didn't hurt that the bistro was almost far enough from the hotel that her parents wouldn't come down immediately.
Smiling, she took a small sip of her water, letting her eyes drift around the patio, scanning the other "diners." Catching one looking at her, Chloe stifled a smirk. She had considered something stronger – Jean-Claude would probably have a heart attack if pictures of her drinking wine in public with her "boyfriend" made it into a tabloid this close to the election. But ultimately, she had decided against it. One gossip-worthy story was enough for this evening. When they had arrived – by the rooftops, of course – the patio had been nearly deserted; now, almost every table was occupied, even if a couple of the "diners" were only pretending to look at menus while nursing their waterglasses far longer than strictly necessary.
Her eyes refocused on her dinner companion, and she quirked an eyebrow at him. "So, what do you think of Paris cuisine?" she asked, setting her empty glass down on the table.
"It's simpler than I expected," Henri admitted, finishing the last of his roasted potatoes. "But it's good." He chuckled. "Honestly, if you had just taken me to the hotel restaurant, that might have been more boring. I'm sure you have a good chef–"
"Le Grand Paris' restaurant has received two Michelin stars," Chloe interjected, arching an eyebrow at him. "Mme Césaire is an excellent chef. And her daughter's one of my best friends," she added as an afterthought, glancing sidelong at the table next to theirs as the woman hunched over her menu. Chloe suppressed a snort.
Henri nodded his concession. "I'm sure," he agreed. "But there is something to be said for simplicity. Though I'm sure next time we'll end up somewhere with eighteen Michelin stars…"
Chloe smirked. "How forward of you," she replied, her eyes widening in feigned shock. "Thinking there will be a next time!"
"Call it a wish, then," he replied. "You proved me right in thinking there could be a first time, after all." He raised an eyebrow pointedly.
She hummed noncommittally.
Henri sighed. "Either way, I'm glad you decided to take me up on the offer of a dinner," he told her, finishing his own water before pouring a little more for both of them from the pitcher on the table. "Even if this is just another opportunity for you to play games with the paparazzi," he added under his breath, leaning forward. He jerked his head subtly to the left, just as a camera clicked.
Leaning forward over the table herself, Chloe placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm, slightly hiding part of her face. She stopped a couple centimeters away from Henri and smirked, her eyes darting to the other side just as a flash went off from somewhere across the street, outside of the bistro's patio. A part of her felt a twinge of guilt that so many paparazzi had invaded the bistro area: although many of the tables had been taken up by them, there were still a few actual diners here as well, whose meal was being interrupted by the ridiculous antics of the photographers. And yet, it wasn't her fault that they had come. She had baited them out, yes. She had come here expecting them to hound her for pictures of her with Henri. But she hadn't forced them to come, take up all the bistro's space, and disturb their customers.
That was all on them.
Chloe let out a calming breath, trying to center herself in the moment. Maintaining the same happy, slightly-flirtatious look that she had been wearing since they left the hotel, she placed her hand on the table near the middle, still playing that same game. Across from her, Henri covered her hand with his, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed her knuckle as a handful of cameras appeared around them only to immediately disappear as the waitress stepped back outside and approached one of the other tables. Though Henri smiled at her, the expression didn't quite reach the eyes – there was a hint of strain, of the pressure of having to play a part in public. Exactly what Chloe had been doing for so long. She hummed, some of the tension in her own arms, chest, and shoulders dissipating.
It was freeing, in a way, knowing that she wasn't the only one who had become so accustomed to this life. Someone else who knew what it was like, having to play a part in public. Marinette and Sabrina understood what she told them of this life. Growing up, Adrien had experienced this kind of pressure from his father, albeit on a completely different level, being not only a model but the face of his father's company. Ladybug and Cat Noir faced this level of public scrutiny every time they transformed. But Henri… he really got it. The weight of public perception. The stress of having to dissemble every time she left her penthouse. The constant feeling that someone was watching her – because seemingly ten million people were aware of her every move. Once, Chloe had enjoyed – reveled, even – in that attention. But that had been before she found her purpose in helping Ladybug and Cat Noir, before she had discovered the dark side of that attention in the Lynchpin's captivity. And anyone who became too closely associated with her would be subjected to the same. It had already started for Zoe; how long would it take before she truly understood what she had gotten herself into, by attaching herself to the Bourgeois family?
Fortunately for them both, Henri already understood. Perhaps between the two of them, tonight they would draw some of that attention away from Zoe – even if only for a few days.
Leaning in closer, Chloe brushed a hair strand back behind her ear, looking down at the table between them. "I'm still surprised that you haven't been recognized yet," she murmured softly. "I would have thought someone would have guessed by now; they've speculated everyone else, from that Olympian to the Dauphin's grandson!"
Taking the cue, he reached out and brushed her hair back on the other side, leaving his thumb on her temple maybe a moment longer than necessary. "I've been fortunate," he replied, shrugging one shoulder. "My family is far enough removed from the better-known side of the family to be able to fly under the radar – most of the time. Even if Mom swears up and down that I look like a younger version of her grandfather. Bad for Father during that last election cycle, but good for me when I want to walk around the city without paparazzi up my ass!" He grinned in amusement. "I'm not going to complain about maintaining my anonymity. Although, I have enjoyed putting it at risk for you," he added, giving her a smile, this time reaching his eyes.
Chloe felt warmth in her cheeks but coughed it away, taking a drink of water and clearing her throat. "You know," she warned him, her lip twitching up, "if we're going to be seen in public together a few more times, they're bound to recognize you eventually."
His eyes widened in surprise, his mouth opening slightly. He cocked his head, studying her face intently. "Wait, do you mean you want to do this again?" He coughed. "Is–is that an invitation?"
Leaning forward a little further over the table, Chloe fluttered her eyelashes. Heat rose in his cheeks, and he blinked. "What do you think?" He swallowed, and she gave a quick smirk, arching an eyebrow at him. "You know, I recall you were the one who suggested that we were only doing this to play games with the paparazzi…"
Henri coughed, leaning back and taking a drink from his water. Clearing his throat, he answered, "I think that can be arranged." After taking another long sip, he hummed, raising an eyebrow at her. "So, if we plan to make this more of a regular occurrence, at what point is it appropriate to meet families?"
Chloe sat back, widening her eyes in feigned shock. "Moving a little fast there, aren't we, Monsieur?" she teased, her voice carrying around the patio. "After all, we've only been on three dates!"
He furrowed his brows, his head tilting slightly to one side, and she stifled a smirk. His eyes flashed in understanding, and he nodded, his lip curving in a hint of a grin. "Well, I just think it would be nice. After all, you've met my mother…"
She hummed. "And you got to meet my 'brother' and his wife," she pointed out. He furrowed his brows in genuine confusion. "At their wedding. And you also met my 'sister' and her fiancé at the same time – or the only sister I had at that time," she amended, shaking her head ruefully.
He raised an eyebrow pointedly. "You know what I mean."
She sighed, leaning forward. "I do," she admitted, her voice returning to a normal volume. "And it's…" She swallowed, unable to fully hide her frown.
"Complicated," he finished, nodding. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I understand."
"I know." She gave him a grateful smile. "And believe me; it's not that I don't want you to meet my family," she told him quickly. "But with my parents…" She looked away. That was what it always came down to: could anyone really stand up to her mother without becoming overwhelmed? And yet, her parents weren't the only family she had – not anymore. She giggled to herself. "Tell you what: I'll introduce you to Zoe first," she decided, quirking an eyebrow at him. "I think that's less dangerous than mother. While if you meet Daddy and he recognizes you…"
"Fair." He sipped his water, relaxing back in his chair and fixing her with an easy smile. "So how is the new little sister? Is she ready for the circus?"
Chloe shrugged. "We'll see. But for now, I suppose I'll just have to keep an eye on her."