Marinette stared at her closet. It was full of dresses, skirts, pants, cardigans and colorful blouses. Most girls would die of delight if they even saw her closet. They would probably explode if they actually had her closet, there were definitely perks to being a designer. All of her clothes were beautiful. Even her most comfortable and cozy clothes were designer, and more adorable than expected. Sweaters and cardigans in all weights and weaves hung over her boots, and her wall of accessories put most fashion stores to shame. Pants, skirts, shorts and capris were sorted by length and all folded on her shelves. Drawers filled with scarves and cardigans ran along one wall. She had the best closet in all of France. Yet, the thought of wearing any of the things in her closet to Fashion Week made her uneasy. The things in her closet were the things she wore everyday. Did she need to wear something nicer for the largest Fashion Show in the world? She didn't really know, and she didn't really want to ask for fear of making herself look like a fool. She sat outside the door to her palace of a walk-in closet, and stared at her rows of shoes and hangers of clothes. They seemed to be laughing at her, mocking her indecision. It was very rude.
She was leaving for Paris in the morning, she should have been packed hours ago, but she wasn't. The pressure of looking cute, classy, and professional all at the same time was definitely more than her already overactive mind could handle. She huffed. Why did her clothes have to give her so much trouble? All of her other things were packed. All the toiletries a girl could need or want; including expensive shampoo and conditioner. She even splurged, and bought a nice fluffy towel just for the trip. She had at least a thousand hair ties and enough makeup and hair products to be a professional stylist. She had her favorite pillow, her sleeping mask and alarm clock. Her laptop, her tablet, and all of her needed chargers and cables. Literally everything else was packed except for her outfits, which hadn't even been picked out yet. She was going to go crazy.
Her mind raced. It would be absolutely unacceptable to wear any single item twice, even if it was a classic staple like a skirt or perfect pair of tights. No repeats. It was also not a good idea to wear anything too revealing or too warm, and not just for the sake of comfort. It was spring in Paris, so it would be chilly, but it would be too warm for winter fashion. Light sweaters and tights would be okay, but leggings and sweaters would be too last season. Nothing strapless, even if she did have great shoulders. It would be too cold, and she would die of embarrassment to have Andrew, whom she was starting to have feelings for, see that much of her skin. It also felt too professional and too serious to wear pants, and too cold to wear shorts. And capri pants were too casual. She growled and stood up angrily. This shouldn't be so hard, she was a designer for goodness sake. As the Head Designer of Square, she could wear all of her own designs to Fashion Week. So why was she having such a hard time? She tried to think that it was the pressure of impressing the world of fashion. But she had already done that. She was already as high as she could be without taking Andrew's place or moving to work with Gabriel Agreste; and while she looked up to him as a designer, she never thought he was very nice. So she was more than happy to be at the top where she was. As she thought about it, she didn't really have anything to be nervous about. That didn't stop her from being nervous. She felt like little girl at her first school dance. No longer a child but not quite a woman.
She wasn't a rookie anymore but nowhere near Andrew's level. This was more than her first time at Fashion Week. This was her coming out party, her grand entrance into design. She realized with a small fit of nausea that all eyes would be on her and Andrew as they represented Agreste Designs. Marinette was also the rising star of Fashion, she would likely be everyone's favorite subject. With that cheerful and terrifying thought, she couldn't stay in her room any longer. She stood up, and turned away from the closet. She walked to her kitchen and turned on the oven. She gathered a few things and threw them all in a bowl. She mixed them absentmindedly as she continued to think about the adventure she was about to go on. She plopped globs of the mixture on a metal sheet and put it in the oven. Nothing to calm her nerves like a fresh batch of Dupain-Cheng chocolate chip cookies, a family secret recipe. At the smell of the sweet treat, a familiar voice came from Marinette's pocket. The bright red creature floated up to sit on Marinette's shoulder.
"Marinette, it's been so long since you've made cookies!" the small creature laughed, "I'm so excited."
Marinette laughed, "Of course you are, Tikki. I figured out long ago that the only reason you have stayed with me all these years is your insatiable need for sweets." She poked the small red kwami in the stomach.
Tikki gave her a smile, and jumped from her shoulder to the oven. She inhaled deeply, and looked up at Marinette, "That is true. I've never met someone who can make cookies like you. But, I am also bound to you by fate. Whether or not there is danger, I am your 'lucky charm', and your companion. I care for you."
Marinette smiled, "I care for you, too. I'm glad that you stay with me. You keep me from going crazy. But, at the same time I feel bad. You came to me at a time in my life when I needed you, and you needed me, and Paris needed us. We were heroes, we saved Paris. Now, with no danger, all you do is listen to me complain about what to wear."
"And help you eat cookies," Tikki pointed out with a giggle, "Just because there hasn't been danger in some time, doesn't mean that the threat is gone. I have been helping Ladybugs throughout all of history to protect the people of this beautiful planet. The danger is never gone. But sometimes the sweet hum of peace is louder than the cries of evil."
Marinette leaned back against her counter, "I suppose you're right. But I still feel bad sometimes."
"Don't." Tikki beamed, "You're my best friend, and the best cookie maker I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. It's more fun to be with you than to be stuck in those earrings all the time, anyway."
Marinette laughed, "Well then, great kwami of good luck, as payback for always eating my cookies, you can help me pick out eight stunning outfits for Fashion Week."
Tikki puffed out her chest, "When I'm done, Andrew won't be able to keep his eyes off you." the small spotted kwami winked at Marinette.
Marinette paled, and felt her face get hot, "Tikki!"
Tikki laughed, and rolled over, "Marinette, it's so obvious that you like him. I think he likes you too. I think he could be a good match for you. He has a similar work schedule and similar passions, and he's sweet. You know I have a weakness for sweets."
Marinette groaned, "But Tikki, he's not just another cute guy. He's my boss. He's gorgeous, and talented, and all those wonderful things, but he's my still my boss."
Tikki waved her off, "That doesn't matter. If a near-eternal life has taught me anything it's that love is blind to things like station or social class. If knights can fall in love with princesses and if Romeo can fall for Juliet, you can have feelings for Andrew."
As if to second Tikki's opinion of Marinette's love life, the timer dinged. Tikki squealed with excitement, and Marinette turned off the oven. She pulled the cookies, perfectly baked, from the cookie sheet and onto a plate. Tikki rode on the edge of the plate, munching on a frying-hot cookie as Marinette walked back to her closet.
With her mouth full of cookie, Tikki offered, "Besides a few gifts and a couple random things, you only own Square clothes, so there isn't any worrying about that. All of your clothes fit the acceptable rules for your Fashion Week dress code. After that, I think you should just wear things that are comfortable, and you feel most like yourself in."
Marinette sighed, and picked up a cookie, taking a bite out of the gooey treat, "You're right. I'm overthinking it. It's still the chilly part of spring. I should wear the same things I would wear to work."
"Right," Tikki nodded, "you aren't going as a model, though you are far more beautiful than most models, so you don't need to show off your body like they do. You are going as an executive and judge. You are a designer, wear what you want! You should be fashionable and classy but still be you, Marinette."
"Good advice from a creature that doesn't wear clothes." Marinette teased, "How do you feel about making a chart of what I'm going to wear?"
Tikki smiled, "I think that would be a great way to organize your thoughts and help you figure it all out. And I'll have you know that I make the outfit you wear as Ladybug, so be careful what you say to me, or you might end up in a sailor uniform next time."
"Good, finish your cookie, and let's get to work. I have to get some kind of sleep before I spend eight straight days with Andrew." Marinette sighed.
"I think you should wear your pink sweater at least once. I love that sweater, it's so soft, and just the littlest bit sparkly." Tikki offered.
"Alright, the pink lurex sweater, but what to wear it with?" Marinette took another bite of her cookie, and continued to stare at her closet.
"How about that cream scarf?" Tikki offered.
After a few hours, and a whole plate of eaten cookies, Marinette and Tikki had successfully picked out eight outfits worthy of an adventure at Fashion Week. Marinette packed quickly, and set her two suitcases by her front door. She hung her chosen outfit for the next day out in her closet, and got ready for bed. A hot shower, a thorough teeth brushing, and putting her hair in curlers so it would look tousled and flouncy in the morning. She snuggled into her bed and Tikki burrowed into the blankets. She fell asleep quickly, and dreamed of Paris.
Morning came quickly, and Marinette woke up sleepily to her alarm. She removed the curlers from her hair, and shook it out to give it the tousled look she wanted. She walked to her small kitchen and made herself something to eat. After she washed the plate and made sure everything was put away, she made her way back to her room. She changed from her pajamas to her outfit for the day.
At Tikki's request, Marinette pulled her favorite pink sweater over her head, and fluffed her hair. She pulled on her favorite pair of black tights and a short and frilly black skirt. She put a sweet pair of long earrings in the second hole behind her miraculous stones. She did her makeup and slid on her shoes. She checked her phone. She was making good time.
Her phone dinged.
It was Andrew.
-"Are you ready for this, Chèrie?"-
Marinette smiled at the nickname, and quickly typed back.
-"Good morning to you, too, Monsieur. I am ready as I'll ever be. :)"-
-"I am on my way to you. I'll be there in like three minutes. Do you need help with your bags?"-
-"No, but thanks. I'm just locking up now. I'll come down and meet you at the front doors."-
-"Excellent."-
Marinette slid her phone into the pocket of her skirt and opened the other pocket, "Tikki, let's go."
"I'm coming." The red kwami cheered and flew into her pocket.
Marinette rolled her eyes, and turned off all the lights and made sure her apartment was good to go before pushing her suitcases into the hall. She locked up and walked to the front doors. Andrew was waiting for her. She wheeled her bags to the trunk, where he was standing with a sleek pair of sunglasses on.
"Good morning, Andrew." She smiled.
He grinned, "Morning, Chèrie. Let me help you." He grabbed one of her bags and helped her lift them into the trunk next to his.
They shut the trunk and Marinette made her way to the passenger seat and Andrew got into the driver's seat. Marinette looked at him, feeling a little nervous but also excited to spend the next two and a half hours driving into Paris with the attractive designer. She'd never spent that much time alone with Andrew. It would either be fantastic or horrible. She hoped for the first option.
He looked at her for a moment before looking back at the road, "I like your outfit. Very you." He smiled.
Marinette took his compliment at face value and shot back at him, "As is yours."
Andrew made a face, "I was trying to be nice, and you're being sassy."
Marinette laughed, "I'm sorry. I do like your outfit. Truly."
He grinned, "It's okay. I should be nicer to you. I know you're nervous about this whole thing. Have you ever been to Paris before?"
Marinette crossed her legs and set her purse on her lap, "I actually grew up in Paris. I moved out here to go to fashion school and to work for Square."
"You did? I'm so jealous! I've lived here my whole life. I've been to Paris for Fashion Week and a few other things, but you lived there! Was is sensational?" Andrew gushed.
Marinette felt her nerves settle a little. Andrew didn't treat her any different than he did at work. A little flirty, a little self-centered, sweet, and very sassy. She relaxed in her seat and put her own sunglasses on, "I did. My parents own a bakery down the street and around the corner from the Louvre. I used to be able to see the Eiffel Tower from my bedroom window."
"A bakery? No wonder you are so sweet." Andrew smiled.
Marinette laughed, "I was never that interested in baking. I'm good at it, but I never really enjoyed it. My parents would love nothing more than for me to be a baker. But instead of forcing me, they encouraged me to follow my dreams and passions as a designer and now here I am."
"My parents wanted me to be a businessman. They didn't support my desires to be a designer. Or really to work in fashion at all. Now that I have made it to the higher ranks of the company, I am glad for a history in business, but it's not what I wanted. I think it's magnificent that your parents were so supportive." Andrew praised her.
With a pang of guilt, Marinette realized she was nervous about Andrew for no reason. He was human like she was, and he was still a nice guy. She was still nervous about Fashion Week, but any out of place negative feelings she had for Andrew melted away and she plucked her phone from her pocket, "Mind if I play some music?"
"That depends, what kind of music?" Andrew seemed skeptical.
"Do you like Rock n' Roll?" Marinette asked, typed in her password and opened her music app. She scrolled through the music.
Andrew looked at her with surprised eyes, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, do you like Rock n' Roll?"
Marinette looked at him through her tinted lenses, and made a sassy gesture with her hands, "Of course."
Andrew laughed, "I would have never guessed. Be the DJ, Chèrie." he gestured to the radio.
Marinette plugged her phone into the car radio and selected her favorite playlist, all of her favorite classic and new age rock tracks. The rock n' roll music filled the small car, and Marinette sighed, "Ah, my soul is already more peaceful."
Andrew laughed a hardy, genuine laugh and they slipped into companionable silence with Marinette's Rock n' Roll filling the small car. As they rode together, Marinette looked out the windows. The scenery of her country always struck her. She smiled, and tapped her foot to the music.
After some time, Andrew looked over at her, her hair perfectly tousled and her large pink sunglasses resting in her dainty nose. He hummed, "Who is your favorite singer?"
"Oh," Marinette smiled at him and pointed at the radio, "Definitely Jagged Stone. Not only is he talented, but he's also a super cool guy."
Andrew raised an eyebrow, "You say that like you know him."
Marinette huffed, very proud of the next thing she said, "I do. I met him when I was younger, and he was kind to me. He also encouraged me to follow my dreams as a designer. I made him a pair of Eiffel Tower glasses once. I was his assistant for a day. I've walked his pet alligator."
"Truly?" He smiled, "I'm impressed, Chèrie. You are friends with Jagged Stone, you lived in Paris, and you are the Head Designer for Square." He sighed, "Any other secrets?"
Marinette laughed, "None that come to mind. Though I'm sure you'll learn more about me than you probably want to this week. Like how much I actually eat, and how klutzy I truly am."
Andrew made a face, "We shall see."
"Yeah, I hope not." Marinette laughed, "I'm actually kind of a mess under all of the designing and cute shoes."
Andrew just smiled at her, his heart warming a little at the new side of the sweet designer. This was going to be an interesting trip after all.
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They arrived at the hotel, and checked into the two small rooms. Marinette was instantly glad for the private space. She would have made it work if she had been forced to share with Andrew, but was grateful she didn't have to. Marinette barely had time to push her bags into the room and put her key card into her pocket before Andrew appeared in her doorway.
"Let's go, we have places to be, Chérie." He tapped his watch.
Marinette smiled, and made sure her key card and debit card were in her pocket. Tikki was safely snoozing in her other pocket, and with a final check that she had her cell phone, she walked out and closed the door.
"I'm ready," she playfully wrapped her arm through Andrew's, "Lead the way Mister Gris."
Andrew flashed her a charming smile, "Off to Fashion Week's first show we go, Mademoiselle."
Marinette laughed, and they walked out of the hotel and through the familiar streets of Paris. They turned around a few corners and arrived at the first venue.
"We have to check in at the V.I.P. desk. They have our access badges and name tags. Do you see the desk?" Andrew set his hand to his forehead, looking.
Marinette scrunched her face, and then pointed, reaching across Andrew, "Over there."
"Well done, let's go."
They walked up to the desk and a kindly man smiled, "So good to see you again Monsieur Gris. Who is your lovely friend?"
Andrew gestured to Marinette, who was no longer hanging on his arm, "This is the newest star of Square Designs, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."
"It's a pleasure to meet you." Marinette smiled, and waved a shy wave.
The other man smiled back and raised an eyebrow at Andrew. Andrew shot him a playful glare. The man at the booth laughed, "I have your name badges right here." He handed Andrew two lanyards.
Andrew handed one to Marinette, and she put it on over her head. The gold fabric was soft against the skin on her neck, and her name flickered in the sunlight. She beamed at Andrew. He winked back.
They entered the building and Andrew led her to the main performance hall. There was no one else in the room. She turned back to Andrew, "Where is everyone? Are we in the right place?"
He turned her back around.
Andrew's voice tickled her ears as he leaned down to whisper to her, "Where would you like to sit? As the representatives of the biggest name in French Fashion, we get to pick where we'd like to sit before everyone else." She could hear the smile in his voice.
She looked around the large room. She could see the long aisle where the models would walk, and surrounding it the long sets of bleacher-type seating where people would sit with sketch pads and phones to watch and post videos to twitter and snapchat. She turned to Andrew, her blue eyes sparkling.
"I'm so happy to just be here, that truly I don't even care. I could sit on those metal chairs over there, and I'd probably die." She sighed, "Or on the floor at the end of the runway. The models could just flip their clothes in my face."
"Let's not have that. It would put a sour taste on this lovely trip." He teased.
She lifted a dainty eyebrow at him, "You're the boss, Boss, I think you should choose."
Andrew cleared his throat, caught slightly off guard by her suddenly playful mood, "Well, despite what people say, the front row isn't all it's cracked up to be. It's crowded, and the angle makes it hard to see all of the designs properly."
Marinette smirked, "Is that so?"
He gestured to the seating, "The best seats in the house are actually on the back row. No one is watching you, and the view is splendid. Not to mention it's reserved for us."
She grinned, "Let's go." She grabbed him by the hand and selected a spot on the back row of the long aisles of seating, "How about here?"
He lifted her hand, and kissed the back of it, "Perfect, Chérie." He turned and waved at the staff.
They brought over folding directors chairs which they set up on the platform seating. Andrew gestured to the chairs, "A-class service for an A-class Lady."
She rolled her eyes at him, and sat down, though the feeling of his lips remained on her hand like a ghost. She put the thought from her mind. She was here for clothes and patterns, not flirting. One of the assistants brought Marinette and Andrew a couple of pillows to sit on, a couple of notebooks to write in, and a cup of coffee for each of them.
Marinette paled, "Excuse me?" she asked timidly.
The assistant spun around and smiled at her, "Yes, Miss Cheng? What can I do for you?"
"I don't much care for coffee. I don't need a drink." She smiled.
The assistant paled a little, "I'm so sorry Mademoiselle. Is there any other drink you prefer? We have hot tea, iced tea, various alcoholic beverages as well as juice, smoothies, and water. I'm happy to bring you whatever you'd like."
Marinette blinked, "Wow that's a lot of choices. If you don't mind, then, I would love tea."
The assistant sighed with relief, "Hot or Iced?"
"Oh, hot please." Marinette relaxed a little.
"Earl Grey, Chamomile, Green, Black, Jasmine, Oolong, White or Chai?" The assistant read off a list from her tablet.
"Oh my," Marinette whispered, "I've opened quite the can of worms haven't I?" She tapped her chin with her finger, "Can I have green tea, strong, with honey and lemon please?"
The assistant smiled, "Of course! I'll have it right out."
Andrew quirked an eyebrow at her, "I didn't know you didn't like coffee, Chèrie. How quaint." He snickered.
She glared at him, and kicked his chair playfully.
After they were seated and the staff confirmed that they were comfortable, a small crowd of people were let in. They were well dressed, and every single one of them was gorgeous.
Marinette flushed as she realized these people were the celebrities of the world coming to the show. They looked at her, and whispered to each other. She fidgeted with her scarf, as they pointed towards her.
Andrew reached over, touching her hands lightly, and moved them to her lap, "You do know that they are looking at you because they admire you, right?"
"No." Marinette sighed, "I feel like they are looking through my skin to my soul."
He laughed lightly, "Chérie, we were the first people in here. Of course they are looking at you. There is no one else to look at yet. We are also the most important people here. They are probably intimidated by you." Andrew cooed, and tugged at her lanyard, which had her VIP Gold pass clipped to it. Her name was printed in big, shining letters, and the Agreste Designs logo was watermarked behind it. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out she was the new favorite Head Designer for the fashion empire.
Marinette sighed, and leaned over her legs and wrapped her arms around her thighs. She frowned, and rested her head on her knees, "This is so overwhelming. I have always dreamed of coming to Fashion Week," she confessed, "but could never make it work. I was always too busy, or in school. And now here I am for the first time and I'm supposed to be this famous designer. I don't feel that famous. Actually, I feel a little sick."
The assistant from before appeared and set a new piping hot drink on the small table. Andrew nodded to her, and she waved back. She disappeared again.
He smiled at her, "You're just nervous. Don't be. You have earned the right to be here." He picked up her tea and held it out for her.
She smiled back at him, her heart beating a little faster, yet melting all at once. She took the tea from him, and sat up to take a sip. The warm, sweet tea calmed her.
His normally flirty smile was gone, and in its place was a real smile. He was genuinely offering her comfort. She felt her cheeks warm a little.
Before she could say anything back to him, he pointed. Marinette looked at him, confused. She looked quickly where he was pointing to see a woman in front of her. She was beautiful. Tall and thin with large eyes and perfect proportions. She bounced on her toes before her perfect face broke into a perfect smile.
"Are you really Marinette Dupain-Cheng?" She seemed nervous.
Marinette felt her face pale a bit, but decided to play it off, "Yes, I am. At least," she held up the card at the end of her lanyard, "that's what my name tag says. Which is good," she smiled, "I might forget it."
The other woman laughed, and she heard Andrew snicker next to her.
"Well, I saw you sitting over here, and I wondered who they would let in before everyone else. So, I opened up my program and looked for the special guests section and there you were! Marinette Dupain-Cheng! The most accomplished designer for her age in the history of Agreste Designs." She took a deep breath and continued, "I kind of can't believe that I'm actually talking to you."
"Well I'm flattered," Marinette laughed lightly, "You are one of my favorite actresses, Miss Floriene. I have loved your movies since I was a child."
The actress blushed, "Oh stop, you're only saying that."
A security guard came up to them, and pointed to Miss Floriene while looking at Marinette, "Mademoiselle, is this woman bothering you?"
Marinette held up her hand, "Oh no, but thank you." She smiled.
The stern guard smiled back, and returned to the end of the aisle. Marinette turned back to the other woman. Miss Floriene pulled out her Fashion Week program and held it out to Marinette.
"Would you think it childish of me to ask for your autograph?" She bit her lip.
Marinette stopped, looking surprised, "Really?"
Andrew nudged her, "Do it, Chèrie."
Marinette looked at him nervously before she turned back to the actress, she beamed, "You really want my autograph?"
"Of course!" She gushed, "My friends will all be so jealous. That security guard probably won't let anyone else come over here, so my program will be one of a kind." The French star winked.
Marinette put her hand to her mouth, then smirked at the actress, "Probably not. So just in case, can I get your autograph as well?"
The actress looked a little confused, and then answered with a laugh, "Oh of course!"
They exchanged books and signed quickly before they traded back again.
Miss Floriene waved as she walked away, "It was so nice to meet you! Enjoy the show!"
"You too!" Marinette waved. As soon as the actress turned all the way around, Marinette's face started to burn and she looked at Andrew, "Andrew," she croaked, "That was Gayla Floriene. She wanted my autograph, mine." Marinette put her hands on her cheeks, "What was that?"
Andrew laughed at her, "You are well loved, Mon Chèrie," he looked at her, "no one sees the incredible genius and talent behind the designs very often, your fame comes from your products. So, to see someone they so admire is a treat. Much like meeting Monsieur Louboutin in a shoe store, you are Mademoiselle Cheng at Paris Fashion Week. It is a bonus, of course, that you are so beautiful and kind."
Marinette tried to ignore her heart hammering at the new addition to her nickname. She wasn't sure if she should be so delighted to be called "Mon Chèrie" by the most handsome man in all of France. She looked away from him and watched as more people flooded the room. No one else approached her after that. And after a few minutes, the lights dimmed and everyone clapped loudly.
A man in an outrageously colored suit appeared at the end of the runway. He held up his hand, and the audience quieted, "Welcome all to the City of Love, the City of Lights, and most importantly the City of Fashion. Paris welcomes you from around the world, we are honored to have so many guests in our beloved city. But, you're not here to listen to me talk are you?" He grinned.
He held up a finger, "We're here to have fun but please remember to be respectful. Walking on the runway without permission, reaching out to touch the models or their clothing, profanities or slurs of any kind, and violence will not be tolerated for any amount of time. If you choose to participate in any of these activities you will be cordially uninvited from the rest of the week's festivities. For your safety, and ours, there is a guard at every entrance and throughout all of the venues. They are trained to keep this a safe environment. They will hurt you if they have to. But enough drab! To Fashion!" He cheered, and the audience cheered with him.
The lights got brighter on the runway, and he announced the first designer.
Marinette's eyes were glued to the models as they paraded up and down the aisle. She felt like she was in a dream. There were some very talented people putting all of this together. Why she hadn't made it more of a priority to be a part of this before, she didn't know. But, she promised that so long as her heart beat for fashion she would be here for as many shows as she could handle.
After an hour, the lights came up, and the Designer was pushed onstage. Everyone cheered and he bowed deeply. He vanished, and the room broke into murmurs of the show and everyone's favorite piece. Marinette stood up to stretch. Andrew stood as well, looking down at her, "So, Chèrie, what did you think of your first show at Fashion Week?"
"Oh it was fabulous." She gushed, "What's next?"
Andrew folded his arms, "How do you feel about parties?"
Marinette paled, "Parties?"