"How was your afternoon, sweetheart?"

Thierry shrugged, picking at his rice and pushing it around on his plate. Dinner with his parents had been such a rare occurrence before; when his father had been working regularly, he had taken so many later shifts that Thierry had hardly ever had an opportunity to see him after school. But now that he wasn't working… He suppressed a frown. Not seeing his father in the evening had been better. Thierry glanced up, trying not to look at his father. His mother was watching his face intently, her fork sitting on the plate in front of her. He sighed. "It was fine," he answered. "Laurent and I went down to skateboard by le Dôme. They finally got it fixed up and opened this week."

"Oh?" His mother cocked her head to one side curiously. "I didn't think the Tarasque went anywhere near there."

"It didn't." Thierry sighed. "It was looters. But fortunately the damage wasn't too bad – they actually worked some of it into the structure, so there's a really cool water feature to maneuver around."

"That sounds like fun," his mother answered, smiling. "How did your new skateboard work?"

"Um… yeah…" Thierry plastered a smile on his face and nodded, glancing sidelong at his father nervously. "It was… great…"

His mother furrowed her brows. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Did it break?"

Thierry let out a huff. "No, I didn't break," he told her, his mouth setting in a thin line in frustration. "It did not break."

His father scoffed, his eyes narrowing at Thierry, and shoveled another forkful of beans into his mouth. "We can hardly put food on the table, and you go out and waste our money on crap like that?"

"I bought it with my money," Thierry retorted, dropping his fork onto the plate with a clatter. "From walking M. Cartier's dogs."

"And you sit here eating food bought with our money, from your mother's hard work!" His father's mouth set in a thin line, his brows knit together. "If you don't want to contribute to this family, then perhaps you shouldn't be eating our food."

Thierry rolled his eyes, looking away. "I'm not the one not contributing," he muttered under his breath

"What the hell did you just say?" His father's eyes flashed with rage. "Are you talking back to me, boy?"

"Now, Jean…" his mother began, hesitantly placing a hand on his father's arm. "I'm sure Thierry didn't mean to–"

"No!" his father interrupted, pulling his arm away from her, slamming his fork down on the table, and clenching his fist. His glass tipped over, spilling across his plate; Thierry's nose wrinkled at the smell. His father rose a few centimeters off his chair, leaning forward and glaring down at Thierry. "If the boy has something to say to me, let him say it!"

Thierry's jaw clenched, and he flared his nostrils, glaring back at his father. "I can't help it that I can get a job and you can't."

Whack. The slap across his face stunned Thierry, and he blinked, staring at his father in shock. His father held his clenched fist in front of Thierry's face, shaking with rage. Dumbly, Thierry reached up to touch his stinging cheek, his mouth handing open.

"Jean!" his mother gasped, flinching, her eyes wide. "Don't–"

"Don't what, Sonia?" his father interrupted, turning on her and raising his hand. Her breathing hitched. His eyes narrowed, and he turned his glare on Thierry, placing both hands on the table. "Don't discipline the boy? Because you haven't the stomach for discipline?" His jaw clenched. "I will not stand to be spoken to that way in my own goddamn house, boy. Now don't you dare blame me for what those goddamn bougnoule foreigners done to us," he seethed, letting out a low growl. "They're the ones who showed up here when no one wanted them, who're trying to change our country out from under us. They're the ones who cost me my job. They're the ones who take all the assistance, leaving us poor. They're the reason we can't have nice things."

"Right." Thierry's mouth set in a thin line, his hand clenching into a fist. "It's all on them." Pushing away from the table, he stood up.

"And where the hell are you going?" demanded his father, starting to rise, quivering with rage. Thierry's mother put a hand on his father's arm, and he pushed the table a centimeter in Thierry's direction, bumping his thighs.

"Out." Without waiting for a response, Thierry bolted for the door, grabbed the skateboard he'd leaned against the wall next to it when he'd gotten home, threw the door open, and rushed out into the hallway. Taking the steps four at a time, he reached the building's front door just as a door burst open above him and his mother called his name.

Leaving the apartment building, Thierry blended into the early evening foot traffic, skateboard under his arm, wandering with the crowd in the general direction of the distant Eiffel Tower. The streets around his apartment building, so familiar but at the same time different – changed by the Tarasque and the chaos it had caused. The empty lot a block down from his building had been rebuilt into a small apartment building; a moving van was parked just outside, and two people were carrying boxes inside. The mom-and-pop convenience store across the street had closed down and still hadn't reopened; a placard affixed to the boards over the front door announced it as the new site of a Paris United outreach center and foodbank. A couple of lights inside shone through the boards and out into the street. If a foodbank was going to open across the street from them, maybe his father would calm down – hell, maybe this 'outreach center' might even be able to help his father find a job!

Not that Thierry would be holding his breath for such an outcome.

Dropping his skateboard to the sidewalk, Thierry hopped on it, leaning forward and gliding down the pavement, keeping pace with the foot traffic around him. He frowned, studying the faces around him. A small group of people, most of them dressed well, walked together just ahead of him; as he veered to the side to pass them, one woman gave him a nervous look. Walking down the street toward him, a couple who looked to be lycée age held hands, the girl giggling at something the boy had said. They paused outside of a café down the street from Thierry's building, looked at the sign, and walked inside. The boy whispered something in the girl's ear, and she giggled shrilly. Thierry frowned. Listening to the conversation as he passed, he caught a snatch of what sounded like Russian from the boy. Further down the block, he could see a woman with two young children, wearing a hijab similar to Leïla's.

If his father were here, he would say it was that woman's fault that they only had beans and rice for dinner tonight. He would say that that woman and people like her had stolen his job and forced him to live in poverty. That people like Leïla and Adil and Hùng were responsible for everything wrong in Paris. But all of that was a load of crap. Hùng's family had lived in Paris for three generations. From everything he'd heard, Leïla's parents worked as hard as anyone. And even though he and Adil weren't exactly friends, but he belonged just as much as anyone else did.

What made these people any different from him or his family? Nothing.

Thierry sighed heavily, racing across the street just as the light changed, glancing up and down the side street as he crossed it, alert for any vehicles. Continuing onward, apartment buildings gave way to restaurants and cafés, with a couple of smaller shops interspersed between. A few more people were on the sidewalks, and Thierry hopped off his skateboard, kicking it up into his hand as he did so. His stomach rumbled, taking in the aroma of breads and meats and grilled vegetables and–

"Thierry?"

Thierry froze, his eyes going wide in surprise, before his brain finally caught up to his ears and recognized the voice. He cocked his head, turning in either direction, and nodded on seeing Laurent and Marie, just leaving the Italian restaurant he had passed moments before. "Oh, hey, guys," he called, giving them a halfhearted grin. "What are you up do? Date?"

Marie nodded, but Laurent shrugged. "Yeah," he answered, grinning and draping an arm over Marie's shoulder. "Just got done eating." Thierry's stomach growled. "But we were actually planning to meet up with a few of the others and go to see a movie. Want to come with?"

Thierry furrowed his brows suspiciously. "Is this like a double date or something?"

Laurent pursed his lips and started to nod hesitantly, but Marie shook her head. "Not really," she told him. "More like we're on a date, and Victoria and Michele are on a date, and we all happen to be going to a movie where some of our other friends will be. You can come with us if you want."

Thierry hummed pensively. "Oh? What movie?"

"That new United Heroez movie they just released… V for Victory, right?" Marie glanced up at Laurent for confirmation.

He nodded, grinning. "Supposed to be their best one yet – I think they got some actual footage from Tarascon to use in it!"

"Seriously?" Thierry's eyes went wide. "I didn't think there was any video of that fight! That's awesome!"

"I really hope they got footage of Nabatala in it," Marie announced. "Of all the newer heroes, I think she might be my favorite. She's got to be around our age!"

"Maybe," Laurent allowed, shrugging. "Though that's just speculation. She could be any age and we'd have no way of knowing."

Marie frowned. "True…"

Thierry hummed, shrugging noncommittally. "Sure, I'll come with you guys. Why not?" It wasn't like he had anything better to do tonight.

"Great!" Marie grinned. "The movie starts in… what? Ten minutes?"

Laurent nodded. "Just about. Plenty of time to get there… and get comfortable," he added, wagging his eyebrows at Marie, who blushed.

With a sigh, Thierry followed along behind them in the direction of the movie theater, lost in his own thoughts. Ahead of him, Marie started talking to Laurent about a shopping trip she had made with Sophie and Amalia earlier in the week. Laurent nodded along with her, though Thierry could imagine his eyes starting to glaze over, even from the back. Reaching into his pocket, Thierry pulled out his wallet and let out a quiet breath in relief. After the skateboard, he'd only had about €20 left from his dog walking money. But that would be more than enough for a movie ticket.

It was a good thing his father hadn't searched his wallet…

Finally, the three of them stopped in front of the theater to fine Michele and Victoria standing a bit away from the entrance, seemingly lost in each other's eyes. Beside them were Leïla, Adil, and even Leïla's friend, Ruth. Laurent grinned, waving an arm at them as he led the way across the courtyard to the others.

"Oh, hey, guys!" Michele called, finally tearing his eyes away from Victoria. He started on seeing Thierry, holding out his fist. "What's up, dude?"

Thierry smiled, the tension in his stomach releasing for the first time since dinner, and returned the fist bump. "Not much," he replied, jerking his head toward Laurent and Marie. "Ran into these two lovebirds, and they invited me along."

"More the merrier!" Michele agreed, grinning. Suddenly he furrowed his brows, examining Thierry suspiciously. Thierry raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Michele's face immediately turning into his usual grin. "Well, we should probably get our tickets, don't you think?" he suggested, opening the door and gesturing for the others to follow him in.

"What about concessions?" asked Ruth when they were almost to the front of the line. "Popcorn?"

"I would eat some if we got it," Victoria agreed, glancing up at Michele meaningfully.

Michele rolled his eyes. "Maybe we get a big tub to share."

Paying for his ticket, Thierry quickly counted his change. "I would put a few euros in for that," he told them. "If we're all going to share."

"You'll have to tell us just how accurate the portrayals of the United Heroez really are," Leïla commented to Ruth while they got their tickets and Michele bought the popcorn. "Usually, the Ladybug and Cat Noir movies are pretty close, at least."

Ruth scoffed, shaking her head. "I only grew up in the area," she replied. "It's not like I have any special knowledge about the United Heroez – or at least no more so than anyone else would."

"Still, you did grow up around them," Leïla pointed out as they filed into the theater and found their seats. "That has to count for something, at least."

Ruth hummed.

Finding himself sandwiched between Laurent and Adil in their row, Thierry sighed, sliding his skateboard under the seat and pinning it in place with one leg. On his left, Marie was already halfway out of her seat into Laurent's lap. On the other side, Adil glanced over at Leïla, who was still in an intense discussion with Ruth. Adil folded his arms and turned to face straight ahead. Thierry frowned, waiting for the previews to start. But they were still a few minutes early. Finally, he glanced at Adil and asked, "So, what do you think of Saint-Germain signing Cormier? Think he'll do a better job than Dubos?"

Adil shook his head, groaning. "Honestly, I don't think it would be possible for him to do a worse job than Dubos did last year!"

Thierry nodded slowly. "He was good in his day, but it's definitely time for them to bring in some new blood…"