It's late when Nathalie finally finishes her workload for the day.

And after such a long day of work, she's ready to go home, but before she takes more than a few steps towards the front door, she stops.

The east hall is illuminated in soft yellow light, a long shadow swaying within the bounds of its walls. It draws Nathalie's eye all the way to the end of the corridor, where a tall figure stands in the kitchen.

Nathalie, after a moment, recognizes this figure as Gabriel Agreste. She watches him curiously; her boss is never up this late– as far as she knows. Her deliberations on whether or not to approach him come to a halt when he stumbles on his way around the island and just barely stops himself from falling forward on his face.

Nathalie paces into the bright room. "Sir?"

Gabriel jolts at the sound of her voice, surprising Nathalie who is shocked in response, and he swivels around on unsteady feet to look at her.

Nathalie watches him carefully, speaking at a softer volume than when she'd entered. "Sir?" she repeats, speaking very clearly, "Are you feeling alright?" There's also the question of what he's doing up so late, but she decides that's none of her business.

"Nathalie," he breathes, once he's blinked about twenty times. His eyes are slightly rounded and he sounds almost astonished.

Nathalie nods, confirming her identity, her eyebrows pulling together. "Yes, sir,"

Gabriel's spine straightens. His eyes dart sideways and back. Nathalie's gaze follows, but she sees nothing notable. Their eyes meet again, and they just stare at each other for a few long seconds, in silence. Eventually, Nathalie looks away, feeling a little foolish, but something is definitely off with Gabriel.

His face, while not expressive, is more relaxed and open than she's seen in a while– since Emilie was still around. And his words. . . though few, they don't have his usual crispness to them. They're softened by something, and not communicating linearly.

That's not even including that his legs don't appear be able to support him on their own, if his white-knuckle grip on the island means anything.

Not knowing what else to do, Nathalie gestures toward the dining room. "Do you need to sit?"

Gabriel looks at her with confusion.

"No, I'm fine, just fine." his words are a little quicker than usual, and certainly more redundant.

"You are?" Nathalie doubts.

"Yes, yes, fine."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I," Nathalie looks him over again, and she thinks she sees his arms begin to quiver, "I don't believe you."

"Nonsense, Nathalie, nonsense." He pauses, then nods as if confirming he's done the math right, and waves his hands in a flowery, dismissive manner. "That's nonsense,"

"Okay–"

"But you know what isn't nonsense?"

"Wh– no, sir,"

"I've been thinking," he begins, and his face lights up in a way Nathalie is certain she has never been witness to before. It surprises her, on top of his sudden steadiness and focus, and she is rendered stationary as Gabriel flips his errant hairs back and paces around the island.

And revealed on the countertop, right behind where he's been standing, is a tall crystal bottle nearly emptied of all its maple-brown drink.

Well.

"There- there're supposed to be two miraculous that can grant any wish together. All I need is the jewels. If I can get the jewels, then-"

He nearly trips over himself again.

Nathalie doesn't even process what he's saying, "Sir, please sit-"

"No, no! Nathalie- Nathalie, you have to understand, I'm thinking."

Gabriel takes ahold of her shoulders, impressively careful in his inebriation, but also firm. He looks into her widened eyes.

"I'm thinking."

"About what?" Nathalie asks with exasperation.

"I can bring Emelie back to us, Nathalie, don't you see?" Gabriel let's go of his secretary and steps back until his hips hit the side of the island, spooking him momentarily. He recovers quickly, surveying the room like he doesn't recognize it, like he didn't design it himself. "Magic is real."

"Sir, what are you talking about?"

"Hawkmoth, I'm talking, talking about the villain. I'm him. He's me. We're each-other."

Nathalie is shocked. "What?"

"I'll use the butterfly jewel's powers to seize my wife back. And you,"

"And me?"

"I have another jewel- we could be a team?"

"Sir," Nathalie raises a hand to her temple as Gabriel continues talking, a little overwhelmed. Magic has all but proven itself real to Parisians of late, but it's still hard to grasp that he's Hawkmoth- if these aren't just the ramblings of a heart-broken drunk man. "Sir, please,"

Nathalie tries to get her boss to stop his pacing, bit his focus is suffering and it doesn't seem he can process more from her than one word every minute. Nathalie huffs when he nearly sends the glass bottle toppling to the floor, only avoided by his clumsy save. She decides she can't take more of this.

"Gabriel,"

Mr. Agreste actually freezes. He looks at her attentively, his lips parted, and in the still silence, the lateness of the hour is more apparent.

"Sit down." she tells him, gesturing towards the dining room again and hoping he is drunk enough to actually listen.

He does. Albeit he continues muttering things under his breath as they walk into the nearby dining room and sit next to one another in random seats, but he falls silent when Nathalie calls his name again. His attention is eager, acute, and Nathalie can see the awareness in him. He isn't sober, but he isn't out of it. Which means within everything he's been saying, there's truth somewhere.

Nathalie takes a breath and rubs the pads of her fingers together- should she ask him about it? She'll be taking advantage of him- these are certainly things he would never want her to know in a rational state of mind- but if enough of what he says is true. . .

"Explain it all to me again."