"So, you ready?" Adrien asked, holding the cardboard takeaway cup up for dramatic emphasis.

Marinette's eyes sparkled under the hat she was wearing. A bright blue that matched her eyes, it suited her perfectly, and Adrien had a suspicion that she'd made it herself. She still seemed a bit shy about her design projects, though he wasn't quite sure why. Maybe she worried that he would think she'd expect him to model things for her? She shouldn't; he'd happily model anything if it would help her build a good portfolio. Maybe he should mention that.

"I was born ready," she declared, taking the coffee from him. "First ever taste of pumpkin spice latte, here I come."

Adrien grinned, dividing his attention between the busy pavement they were walking down and Marinette's face as she took the all-important first sip. She scrunched her freckled nose at it and looked thoughtful.

"Huh."

"Well?" he asked, on tenterhooks. "Is it as good as it's supposed to be?"

"It's…" She handed the cup back. "Weird. Good, but weird. You try."

He took his own sip, enjoying the warmth of the drink in his hands. It was only October, but the weather had turned suddenly cold, and the steady wind blowing leaves down the street made him wish he'd worn his own hat.

The coffee was delicious. He didn't bake enough to identify the spices – one was cinnamon, maybe? – but they were somehow comforting, sweet and autumnal all at once without being overpowering.

"That's amazing!" he exclaimed. "Got to be in the top three at least."

Marinette laughed. "I definitely don't like it that much. Hmm… Guess you're officially more basic than me."

That made him laugh too. He liked that she was more relaxed around him now and would tease him the way the others did. She'd seemed so unsure about him when they'd first met, which he assumed was due to his fame – she wasn't the first person he'd come across who wasn't quite sure how to handle speaking to a minor (very minor, in his opinion) celebrity. Now she knew he was just a normal person, she'd clearly warmed up to him.

He took another small, wonderful sip and gave it back. "Here, you have the rest."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Adrien, are you dieting again?"

He avoided looking at her, focusing instead on the students around them. It wasn't Halloween yet, but signs of it were popping up everywhere – in the shop windows, in the posters advertising themed drinks or food, in the pumpkin someone had carved early and put in their window. He'd never really had much to do with Halloween – his parents had always said it was an American thing – and the way the student population embraced it so wholeheartedly had surprised him. There were at least three Halloween-themed parties or events he'd been invited to personally, along with what seemed like hundreds more advertised across the city. Then again, it seemed like students would take any chance to celebrate, regardless of the reason. He could get on board with that.

"Not exactly," he lied, trying to sound careless, and at the same time mentally counting calories and wondering whether he could get away with another few mouthfuls of coffee. "Just… being disciplined."

Discipline was an important quality – a quality one had to cultivate in oneself, sometimes ruthlessly. That was something Gabriel Agreste insisted upon. You would get nowhere in life without discipline.

Once, Adrien's mother had laughed at him and told him that discipline was fine – in small doses. Once, Gabriel had smiled back at his wife and disregarded his own rules in order to spend more time with his family. Once, discipline had just been the structure that held their family close.

Now…

Marinette was talking animatedly and Adrien suddenly realised he had no idea what she was saying. Slightly panicked, he automatically took the coffee when she thrust it at him in order to gesticulate more freely.

"—modelling is all about!" she was ranting. "And he, of all people, should know how crucial it is not to perpetuate unhealthy, unrealistic stereotypes. As if you need to lose weight. As if you're not perf—" She stopped short and went red right up to her eyebrows, but then apparently decided to forge ahead. "Well! Does he really think you'd sell this many campaigns if people didn't think you looked great?"

Adrien found, somewhat to his surprise, that he was flattered. He was used to people telling him he looked good, but it was still kind of nice to hear it from Marinette. He felt that she wasn't the kind of person who said things just to make someone feel better.

"Thanks," he said, meaning it. "I know it's… difficult to understand. Père just wants the best for me." And for me to be my best. And do my best. And nothing less.

Marinette's lips pressed together into a thin line as if she heard the unspoken additions, but she didn't say anything else. He had a strong suspicion that she was going to do some more baking. She had a knack for picking the times when he most craved sweet things to present him with them.

"Are you excited for the press conference?" he asked in a bid to change the subject – though he did allow himself another sip of coffee. Or maybe three. She was right, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

"Press conference?" Marinette squeaked. He looked down at her and caught an odd expression on her face – it was almost… guilt? Panic?

"Yeah… the one Ladybug and Chat Noir are giving? Their first one?" he reminded her, puzzled. "They say it's gonna be any day now. Smart not to give an exact time or location, though." Because all of Ladybug's ideas are smart, he added mentally.

As a matter of fact, the conference was due to be held this afternoon. It would be broadcast live, but they hoped that if there was no prior warning, there was less chance of Hawkmoth causing havoc. Then again, they weren't entirely clear on how Hawkmoth's akumas worked yet. Even the kwamis seemed unsure; it had been a long time since they'd interacted with the butterfly miraculous.

Marinette's brow cleared. "Oh, right! Yeah, it's gonna be interesting to hear what they have to say."

"Yep." Especially given that I have no idea. Hopefully Ladybug will take the lead. She nearly always did, and he loved that about her. "Reckon Alya will get the answers she wants?"

Marinette chuckled, her expression warming. It had been… wonderful, somehow, to see the friendship between her and Alya developing over the past couple of months. They seemed attached at the hip now, constantly talking and baking and laughing together, and Adrien often found it hard to remember that they hadn't known each other before uni had started. Then again, he was finding it increasingly difficult to remember that he hadn't known Nino all his life either.

"I think Alya's ambition is big enough for anything," Marinette joked. "But I'm sure they'll listen to her. The Ladyblog is already pretty popular, and Ladybug and Chat Noir have to know how hard she's worked on it."

Oh, we do, he almost answered, stopping himself just in time. Sometimes it felt way too easy to talk to Marinette.

He'd found himself on the point of talking to her about his father on more than one occasion – not just mentioning him, but telling her how it really was, asking how normal it was, whether he should try and do something different. Whether he was doing it all wrong. Whether his father was right to be disappointed in him. But even when the words were on the tip of his tongue, he always found himself unable to speak them. It was like some invisible barrier prevented him from sharing his most deeply buried fears, even when he wanted to. At times like those it was a relief to get away from Marinette and that sympathetic, listening expression, and spend a few hours on the PlayStation with Nino. That was so much easier – uncomplicated, free of emotion.

He shook himself free of those thoughts. They were nearly at the point where their paths diverged. Spotting another poster, he blurted out, "Hey, are you and Alya going to that Halloween dress-up thing in a couple of weeks?"

Marinette looked surprised. "Um, maybe? I'm a bit worried it'll be too busy. Not really my thing. But I said I'd help Alya with her costume!"

"Has she decided what she's going as?" He liked it when Marinette got all excited about her design plans.

"She wants to do something a bit different – quirky. I was kicking around some ideas." Marinette swung her bag towards her chest and dug in it as they walked, freeing a large, spiral-bound sketch pad. Adrien's eyebrows shot up. She'd never shown him any of her sketches before.

Turning the pages quickly but not so quickly that he didn't spot a couple of cool designs that were definitely for men, she found what she was looking for and offered it to him shyly. "I was thinking of turning around the whole 'mummy' look. Make it into a dress – either out of ribbons or strips of fabric to get that frayed look, you know. But not, like, bodycon – see if I can make it light and airy, kinda challenge people's conceptions. Maybe put a petticoat underneath it for more volume… I feel like that will really suit Alya's figure."

On the paper, a woman danced across the page in a swirly dress that seemed to move even as Adrien stared at her. Alya was rendered in only the barest strokes – a cloud of hazy curls, a careless smirk – but he could see it was her.

"This is so cool," he said fervently. "Seriously. Make sure you add this to your portfolio; document it properly. It's too good not to."

As if regretting how much she'd revealed, she snapped the book shut and shoved it back into the bag. "Thanks," she said, cheeks blazing, tucking her hair behind one ear. "Nino said he needed help too so I might end up doing that as well. Who knows? Maybe I'll do a whole Halloween-inspired line."

"You should!" he exclaimed eagerly. "I'd love to wear a Marinette original!"

Still not looking at him, she smiled. "Guess we'll see. Oh! It's my top! I mean stop! Gotta go, see you later!"

Adrien grinned at her babbling and carried on to his lecture, wondering how the press conference would go. He hadn't said it to Ladybug, but if Hawkmoth didn't find a way to ruin it, he'd eat his Chat Noir tail. And ears.

Ladybug met him on the roof of the building over from the planned location of the press conference, just as they had agreed. Chat Noir was mildly surprised to see that, as requested, no one was on the balcony outside the room in question; he'd expected the mayor to use any chance he could get for publicity. He wondered if it was simply that it was very difficult to say no to Ladybug.

She was looking amazing as always, bright blue eyes snapping with excitement and glowing against the red and black mask. He felt that now-familiar lurch in his stomach when she put a hand on his arm in greeting. He'd long given up on hoping he'd stop reacting like this; these days he settled for just hoping he didn't make it too obvious.

"Ready?" she asked him with a dazzling grin.

"Ready," he assured her. "You nervous?"

It had been a joke, so he was surprised when she bit her lip. "Only a bit," she confessed. "I'm excited to share our plans with everyone. Just hoping they don't start asking about our qualifications or something like that."

Chat Noir rolled his eyes dramatically. "If they do, just remind them you have a Master's degree in kicking akuma butt."

She laughed at that – he always got a ridiculous warm glow when he made her laugh – and gestured to the door that led into the building. "Shall we?"

There was a buzz of excited chatter that immediately died to hushed whispers when they entered the conference room on the top floor. Chat Noir noted that the windows had been shuttered, as planned, and everything was lit with bright white studio lights. He was grateful that he'd been in the public eye and used to publicity since the age of four, or the two empty seats across from a sea of keyed-up journalists might have seemed a daunting sight.

Once the mayor had greeted them loudly and with some level of awkwardness – he obviously still wasn't sure how to feel about the new superheroes' position of authority – and Ladybug and Chat Noir were seated, there were a few seconds of silence. Chat Noir was just gearing himself up to make a pun about breaking the ice, knowing that Ladybug would murder him for it afterwards, when she took a deep breath and announced:

"Welcome, everybody! Thank you for meeting us here. We have a few things we'd like to share with you, but this conference has also been called to answer the questions of the public. Um, does anyone have a quest—"

A cacophony of noise broke out as what appeared to be every single arm in the room shot up and waved frantically.

Ladybug blinked and cleared her throat. "Ah, right." For a second Chat Noir was sure she was going to panic, but she pointed confidently at someone in the second row and said, "Yes – Mademoiselle Cèsaire. From the Ladyblog, I believe?"

To Chat Noir's delight, it was indeed Alya sitting there, looking as if she might faint from pure joy. He half expected her to leap out of her seat.

"You know the Ladyblog?!" she gasped, and then seemed to recover some level of poise as Ladybug nodded with a smile. "Sorry, that's – that's just really awesome."

Chat Noir noticed that more than a few of the other members of the press were clearly unimpressed by this turn of events, some even going so far as to scowl openly at Alya. His sensitive cat ears caught a few mutters of upstart kid and not journalism and going viral.

Unable to resist the opportunity to hammer the point home, he chimed in. "We've loved reading your blog! In fact, we feel strongly that we need a presence on social media, so it's fantastic that you're helping us with that." He was strangely gratified to see more scowls, especially from the older reporters in the crowd. Yeah, it's the twenty-first century now, he thought fiercely. Superheroes are on Twitter. Get used to it.

Alya seemed slightly overwhelmed by this, so Ladybug – giving Chat Noir a tiny nod of approval – prompted, "Your question?"

"Oh!" Alya crimsoned. "I was just gonna ask, how are you doing?"

There was a ripple of laughter around the room, both genuine and unkind, which was met by Ladybug's hearty laugh. "You know what? Thanks for asking. I'm doing good, actually. It's lovely to be able to speak to reporters – I know it's frustrating that we have to zip away after dealing with an akuma, but that's mostly unavoidable, I'm afraid."

Chat Noir admired the way she didn't admit to the potential weakness of needing to recharge their powers while also addressing a common complaint in the news. Some media outlets had taken a stance of distrust because the new superheroes hadn't come to officially explain themselves, and Ladybug was hoping this conference would ease that concern.

"We want to work closely with the city and its officials," Ladybug went on, holding a hand out to the mayor and then inclining her head at the prefect of police, who stood at the back of the room, "and we're delighted to announce that we've already been collaborating with them to develop an app that will notify Parisians of akuma attacks as soon as they occur. We encourage you all to download it, if you would like to, so that we can continue to work to keep you all safe. There's information on there about what to do in case of an attack nearby, as well as links to emergency services and the option to report anything that could be an akuma."

This was met by lots of nods in the audience, and some approving and even enthusiastic noises, to Ladybug's obvious gratification.

"We've also begun a referral system for some free counselling sessions for anyone who has been akumatised," Chat Noir said – he was particularly proud of this idea, which had (of course) been Ladybug's. The app had mostly been his suggestion, but Ladybug had improved it immeasurably. "We know that it's incredibly distressing to be targeted by a terrorist, and though we're lucky that Ladybug is able to repair or undo material damage, we'd like to take this opportunity to emphasise that it is not your fault if you are akumatised."

There was a loud babble at this. "But don't the akumas only seek out those who are emotionally unstable?" yelled a smug-looking man from the back.

Ladybug didn't lose her professional demeanour, but Chat Noir saw her jaw clench.

"No," she said coolly, "that's incorrect. Strong emotions attract the akumas, from what we can gather, and usually negative ones – such as grief, injustice, or anger. However, that does not mean an akumatised person is in any way at fault for their actions. We all experience emotion, and it is a failing on Hawkmoth's part, not the victim's, that he chooses to exploit that."

"Having said that, I'm sure it wouldn't harm you to take up meditation," Chat Noir quipped, winking deliberately at the man. He turned purple, but most of the room laughed.

"Who is Hawkmoth?" demanded someone else, and others followed with similar questions.

"Do you know his identity?"

"What's his goal?"

"Why haven't you stopped him yet?"

It might not have been visible to anyone who wasn't aware of her every slightest move, but Ladybug's shoulders tensed, and Chat Noir felt akuma butterflies in his stomach. This was the trickier part.

"We believe," he began after a swift glance at Ladybug, who had stressed previously that she wanted them both to speak an equal amount, "that Hawkmoth wants to gain possession of our… um… sources of power. We're not sure what he wants to do with them, but obviously they are of considerable value and grant unique advantages."

"We will of course not allow him to touch a miraculous," Ladybug added quickly, "and we're working on plans to try to lure Hawkmoth into the open or discover his hiding place. We sincerely hope that Paris will not be facing this threat for much longer." There was a smattering of polite applause.

As always when Ladybug brought up the temporary nature of their responsibility, Chat felt a much less pleasant version of the stomach lurch. He'd only had Plagg for a few weeks, but he couldn't imagine life without him, much less Ladybug.

Working to overcome that dread, he pointed at a raised hand. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if—"

"Hang on," boomed the smug man from the back, completely ignoring the poor woman who had been speaking. "Are you saying that all this person wants is some weird magic things that have only been put within his grasp because of you two kids?"

Chat Noir winced internally. That was the other prevalent criticism in the media – their age. No one seemed able to tell exactly how old they were, but it was apparently obvious that they were pretty young.

"That's not quite—" Ladybug began, but was interrupted by the increasingly smug journalist.

"Why don't you just hand them over and save our city from being torn to pieces?" he demanded.

Git, Chat Noir thought angrily, but there was a small murmur of agreement, and someone else added, "Why put innocent civilians in danger?"

"We're doing everything we can to protect civilians," Ladybug said firmly, "including a police force especially trained to respond to akuma attacks under our direction, and the app—"

"People are getting killed!" Smug Git expostulated. "Whatever weird 'magic' you're using doesn't change that!"

To his concern and fury, Chat Noir saw Ladybug go white under the mask. Fighting back an urge to leap over the crowd and knock the guy senseless, he called over the increasing hubbub, "I'm afraid it's not that simple. We don't know what Hawkmoth wants, but there's no way we can guarantee anyone's safety if he's granted the powers we've been given. Our job is not only to prevent him from causing chaos, but to reclaim the miraculous he's wielding and bring him to justice."

"How do we know that you're the right people for the job?" shouted Smug Git. "For all we know, you could be the terrorists!"

Chat Noir groaned and Ladybug's shoulders slumped. Alya, along with a few others, jumped to her feet and started yelling back at Smug Git, and just like that chaos erupted.

Well, this is just perfect, he thought grimly. Any second now, and—

"AKUMA!" someone shrieked.

There we go.