"There's a new intern in design, cute little thing, Mathias called dibs apparently," Pietro stage whispered when Adrien came into the room. He said it like it was the greatest joke. Adrien sighed. Design meant that the poor kid was going to have to work with his father.

He dropped his bag on a bench and went to look at the rack of clothes with his name hanging on them. The room was full of models. He usually tried to be friendly but Pietro's tone had set him on edge. he already did not want to be here. They were going to get to stand around for the next three hours while each shirt was pinned and measured and repinned and remeasured until it was perfectly tailored.

This was the catwalk line up for the winter show and it was all dark wools. Plain and dull. The magazines would call the line 'classic' and pick out 'innovative' details like fancy buttons or cravats instead of ties or whatever stupid thing they had come up with. He just wanted to get through it and get out. He had a paper to write that he hadn't started yet.

"Are you in on the betting pool yet?" a voice said and Adrien turned from the charcoal suit in his hands to raise his eyebrows at Liam who had the most abysmal French accent of anyone Adrien had ever met. That list included every tourist lost outside the Lourve stumbling through asking directions. That Liam knew all the words just made his inability to speak more ridiculous. He was nice though and didn't just speak English and expect that everyone else would switch for him. He tried. Usually Adrien liked him. They had done a few shows together and he had been pushing his own agent to consider trying to find Liam advertising contracts when they were off show season and the runway contracts all dried up. Today, he considered hitting him.

Adrien didn't disguise his annoyance when he snapped, "No."

"Oh ignore him, I'm in," Pietro said, "Fifty on two weeks. She doesn't look like she'll last."

"Don't terrorize her," Adrien said though he knew it was hopeless. Terrorizing the new intern was considered a rite of passage in most fashion houses. Since Gabriel Agreste had the unrivaled talent of driving off anyone who might be considered kind, it was worse here. His design department was even worse than the models who wore the clothes. The stereotype of models who threw fits and cellphones didn't touch the reality of the Agreste designers. She was headed into hell and the models would just make it worse with relentless flirting and attempted seductions. They did it every time.

"You're so boring," Pietro said with an eye roll and Adrien ignored that as well.

The intern showed up during the fittings. She came in with Nathalie who had, of course, been tasked with giving her the tour rather than having one of the designers do it. Designers were more important. Adrien had always liked Nathalie though he couldn't imagine why she stayed in his father's employ. There had to be better jobs. That he was still working for his father as well was something he tried to ignore. They should both leave.

When the door opened, half the conversation in the room fell quiet. They had all been sharing theories about her that had grated on Adrien's nerves. They hadn't even met her yet. He was facing the wall while the tailor fussed with the length of his pants and a pair of the lower ranked designers stood around and debated shoe choices.

"Americano! How many guns do you own? Did you order any freedom fries?" Liam laughed in English before she had even been introduced.

Adrien turned around, prepared to step in and say something to him or to Mathias or to whoever decided to be an asshole next. They had driven an intern out of the room crying once and if it took losing friends to stop them from doing it again, he wasn't sure he cared. He paused when he saw her.

Familiar. So familiar.

"Listen, Irish. I was born in this city which is more than you can say," she said in perfect French. Not just perfect French, local French. He stared.

"Marinette," he said aloud.

For a moment her name had escaped him but he remembered her. She had sat behind him in class, had been class president, her parents owned a bakery up until the Disaster had destroyed that entire block. Alya's best friend with pigtails and clumsy feet and a clever mind. The pig tails were gone. She wore her hair long now and it fell below her shoulders. She was dressed up for her first day at a new job. Heels and a polka dot skirt and a black jacket over a bright pink shirt.

There was a stutter of hesitation before she said, "Hello... Adrien."

"Liam?" Adrien said. He was smiling, smiling wider than he had in a long time and he wasn't quite sure why. He didn't take his eyes off of her as he waved a hand at Liam, "I take it back, I'll put 200 down that she'll make it to the end of the contract."

He stepped down off the platform and crossed the room to her. The pins in his pants scratched at his ankle and his team squawked at him to get back into place. He ignored it all. When he got to her he wasn't sure what he had been planning to do. Hug her? He couldn't do that. He held out a hand and she shook it once with a little smile before letting go and wrapping her fingers more tightly around a binder she held in her arms.

"200 what?" she asked.

"Euro," he said, "We take bets on the new interns. Pietro there thinks you'll last less than two weeks."

She shot a look at Pietro who tried for a haughty expression but ended up looking like a petulant child. Adrien grinned at him and then at Marinette. She hadn't gotten any taller. Her eyes were still bright blue but not as carefree as they had been when she had been younger. To say she looked older was stupid. Of course she looked older but older suited her.

"Congratulations. Your portfolio must be excellent," Adrien said and he knew it was an awkward thing to say. Everyone was watching them and that made him nervous. Being watched on the runway was far different than being watched like this. He said it again because the first time wasn't awkward enough and his idiot mouth needed to make it worse, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she said and then his team was crossing their arms and watching him like he was throwing off the entire day and her tour was moving on. He was an idiot. He climbed back up onto the platform and put all his attention on standing still and not locking his knees funny and holding his shoulders properly so that the clothing fit the way it was meant to.

His mind kept drifting back to her. It was almost a relief to have someone who wasn't Ladybug pull on his attention like this.

Marinette had left, as had many people, after the Disaster. In their neighbourhood the disaster was its own event. It was simply the Disaster. In a city that saw more destruction than most, that day had been worse than all the others. An akuma that had set things on fire had nearly destroyed everything. Adrien could still remember it. The smell of that many buildings burning. The smoke in the air. The people melting like candles into the street.

He shook away those memories. The worst one wormed its way past his defenses as though just seeing an old classmate was enough to open doors he had locked shut. His mind swirled around the expression on Ladybug's face when she'd realized how far the fires had spread.

He was almost grateful when the woman working on his sleeve stabbed him with a straight pin. The pain pulled him out of the memories. She was apologizing profusely and offering to run off and get bandaids and convincing her that he was fine was a distraction on its own. By the time he was heading home, he'd almost convinced himself that the whole memory had never happened.

It was a lie he told himself regularly but couldn't quite believe.