They don't talk about it.

Mostly because they avoid each other. Which thankfully isn't hard nor conspicuous, because they don't normally interact much without Adrien or Marinette around.

They seem to be the only ones aware that it's happening— or, at least, none of their mutual friends mentions it around them. Fortunately, because Nino doesn't know what he'd say.

A few times, his gaze snags on Alya's, his attention instantly monopolized by the bright hazel of her eyes, and each time he finds her face it's a mask of indifference over a subtle apprehension. The moment she processes his presence, anticipation flashes across her features, so subtle and drawn that Nino is left staring, searching for it again, unaware that he betrays his own feelings every time.

All Nino wants is for this barrier to be gone, for these feelings to stop holding him back from just talking to her, from treating Alya like normal.

But when they face each other again, there's no escaping them; just the sight of her turns his throat dry, and he swears when he nervously chews his lip, she stares. Awkwardness steadily rises, turning the air stiff.

Maybe it's just the objective reporter in her, but when Alya finally breaks the silence, there's barely any trace of what she might be feeling on her face or in her voice. She's mostly neutral, a little friendly, a little tired.

The distance makes things easier, but Nino isn't sure if he wants things easier.

"Hey," she spares him an easy smile and even cocks a hip outward casually, though her hands twitch in her jacket pockets. The fidgety behavior looks strange on her. "You, ah, had my back yesterday, so I want to make it up to you." she says.

Nino naturally matches her disposition and relaxes his posture a little, but his smile is lopsided when he waves her off. "Ah, it was nothing, I just didn't want to leave you." He quickly adds, "Wouldn't have been right."

"If by that you're suggesting I needed saving, you'd be wrong."

"Hey, I'm not saying you did or didn't," Nino makes a placating gesture, but his smile is amused and knowing. "I just know it never hurts to have a friend."

Alya snorts derisively, her countenance flattening into something nonplussed and sarcastic. Thankfully, the reaction doesn't seem to be directed at him. "Maybe that's why Marinette and Adrien both disappeared together." Alya grumbles under her breath.

"I'm sure they had their reasons," Nino mentions softly. Alya's gaze, which had averted from him at her last remark, refocuses on his face. Her eyes seem to search his, and Nino gazes back, curious of the curiosity illuminating her eyes. "Maybe they were just scared."

"Maybe," Alya mumbles. And though she blinks and Nino moves to make space for Ivan's large frame to pass him by, the connection isn't broken.

Despite himself, Nino cuts the moment short; she's never looked at him like that, he's not sure it's a good thing… "I mean, people traditionally run away from danger, so–"

"What about you?" Alya interrupts him– with what he has privately classified as her reporter voice. It makes him feel more dissected than her probing stare had. "Were you scared?"

Nino shrugs. "I mean, I wasn't not scared, but I guess... my fear for myself disappeared when I realized my fear for you."

His sincere answer earns him a smirk, of all things, soft and gorgeous. It's gone as soon as it's there, however, causing Nino to wonder if he hadn't imagined it, thinking wishfully.

"Well," Alya begins again, looking suspiciously satisfied, "heroics or recklessness, I sort of dragged you into danger with me, so–"

"Ah bupbup," Nino interrupts her kindly, "I didn't do anything that I didn't want to do. I was in charge of myself, so it isn't your fault I–" he falters for a second, the image of her pinned beneath him breathing heavily flashing in his mind, "–I took that hit. I got into danger all on my own."

"I know," Alya replies. "But I still appreciate it. Let me take you somewhere."

"Y— Take me somewhere?" Nino's heart trips over itself as its tempo suddenly spikes. He wills himself to function, to say something. "I mean, like, you wanna… take me somewhere?"

Useless.

"Our movie night went… left, so I figured we'd try again someplace else and have it not turn out that way. We'll do what you want, since you made the concession with the horror movie last time."

Nino suddenly can't look at her eyes anymore. "Okay," is all that he can muster.

Alya looks at him strangely, the tone of his disposition perhaps giving her the wrong signals. She asks slowly, "Unless you don't really want to hang out?"

"No!" Nino hurriedly clarifies, eyes snapping back to hers. "No no, I mean, I do want to hang." He rubs the back of his head awkwardly. His gaze falls to the ground, his mind in the midst of fathoming this conversation, then nervously flicks back up. "I'm just not used to setting the destination is all, I usually go with the flow," the excuse tumbles out of his mouth. "Let me think on it?"

"Sure," Alya steps away to head to next class. She seems mildly convinced. "See you after school?"

"Yeah." Nino nods.

Alya steps around him to go on her way. As she walks off and Nino is left to recount the last two minutes, another thought strikes him suddenly. Before he can consider whether or not he should even bring it up, he turns around. "Oh, wait, Alya!"

"Yeah?" She halts mid-step just beyond the doorway.

"Is this a you and me thing, or are Adrien and Marinette coming, too?"

"I hadn't thought about it. Do you want them to come?"

"Ah—" Nino's voice stalls. "I mean, it's fine," he says, trying to push nonchalance past the sudden tightness in his throat, "they don't gotta come, I was just wondering."

"Alright then," says Alya, watching him strangely again, "see ya."

"See ya."

Nino waves at her with a smile, but cringes on the inside; he still doesn't know if the other two are going to show up.

"I'm Nadja Chamack reporting live from Saints Boulevard in the fifty-third arrondissement. After a solid 30 degrees this morning, the temperature has risen to startling heights! Temperatures read a mind-boggling 75 degrees this evening, at the official start of Autumn."

This time, when Alya returns to her room after finally getting her little sisters to sleep and talking to Nora for two hours before she had to leave again in the morning, she finds her miraculous set on her bed, alone. Ladybug had brought it and left.

For some reason, it makes Alya smile. Maybe because she knows the heroine must still be embarrassed by the last time she visited; and she's not going to lie, there's some pride in knowing she has the ability to fluster the beloved savior of Paris.

"There have been several reports from across Paris of an abnormal red glow on the sky. No one is sure what it's all about and the signs seem ominous, but I have word that Ladybug and Chat Noir have been spotted in several locations, so a resolution may soon be underway,"

Without further ado, Alya dons the decadent magical necklace and greets her kwami. Trixx is elated, as always, to see her and be free from the confines of the jewelry. Alya beckons her transformation with a grin and Rena Rouge emerges from the orange glitter that illuminates her bedroom.

"Look! Zoom in there– did you get that?" Nadja exclaimed. Then, after some fumbling and a grunt, "Chat Noir and Carapace just jumped over that building! They're probably surveying the area. We might be close to the akuma! No, wait...

"I've just received word that the threat isn't in Paris! A citizen of our close neighbor, Montreuil, has been akumatized. The heroes must be on their way there. But that doesn't mean Parisians are out of danger—"

She turns off her monitor, cutting Nadja short, then walks out onto her balcony. Rena shuts the glass door and perches on the metal railing.

"Hup!"

Vaulting backwards into a backflip, Rena lands in a crouch on the rooftop of her apartment building to overlook the neighborhood. Unexpectedly, she lands just shy of where Ladybug is standing, presumably waiting for her, and the two exchange slightly surprised looks. They laugh.

"As lovely as always, Rena," Ladybug greets her with a note of pride, causing Rena to grin, "The Fox suits you."

Rena rises to stand, her long legs lifting her head above Ladybug's by an inch or two. Perching her fingers on her shoulder, she smirks softly. "You think so?"

"Foxes are associated with wits and knowledge," Ladybug shrugs, glancing away with the corners of her mouth pulled in a knowing smile. "And, you know, guile and cunning."

"If I didn't know any better," Rena replies, giving Ladybug an appraising look. Unexpectedly, the other heroine flushes lightly (Rena logs this for later). "I'd say you're calling me wily."

"Oh, don't act like you don't have some Sly Cooper in you."

Rena arches a brow. "Sly Cooper is a raccoon."

Ladybug crosses her arms over her chest. "You get what I mean."

Rena's sharp eyes watch her. Then, slowly, she is nodding, each bob of her head larger than the one before. "Ahh," she says with a wide, fanged grin and sharp eyes that glitter, and suddenly the space between the two heroines is much, much smaller. "You mean that I'm a thief." Rena explains, "Because I've stolen your heart?"

"Anyway," Ladybug puts more space between them (definitely not blushing), ignoring the other heroine's amused gaze. "We'd better meet up with the rest of the team. This one's a doozy."

Despite herself, Rena sobers immediately. "I heard. Have the boys made it out there yet?"

"I think so," Ladybug retrieves her yoyo from her hip, slides it open and begins to type, "Chat mentioned something about his suit getting hot."

"Knowing that cat, he wasn't talking about the fires," Rena imparts out the corner of her mouth.

"I've got his position," Ladybug expertly ignores her comment. "He and Carapace are nearly to the affected area– which is huge, by the way–"

"And only getting bigger–" Rena notes with widened eyes, espying the map from over Ladybug's shoulder.

"Exactly," Ladybug agrees, snapping her yo-yo shut. "We'd better hurry."

The fires rage unreasonably hot in jagged paths that destroy indiscriminately. From up high, the trails look as angry red scars on the city. The flames slowly inch toward one another to coalesce into one bigger fire that burns even hotter and brighter. Thick clouds of smoke rise into the black of the night sky. Entering Montreuil, Ladybug and Rena Rouge's suits are enveloped by magic and change to protect them from the overwhelming heat— and what a relief.

The girls find Carapace and Chat Noir perched atop a sizeable edifice that offers a wide view of the land. The latter hero is twitchy but otherwise stationary whereas the former paces across the roof steadily, stopping when the girls come into view.

Rena touches down, tucks and rolls. After popping up to her full height, she finds herself standing chest-to-chest with Carapace.

Rena hadn't given much thought to what her transformation looks like, but seeing Carapace's, she thinks she's fine with it being a mystery; nearly everything about his suit is thicker and heavier. The scales on his chest and stomach have hardened into smooth, jagged shapes and his face is once again obscured by a mask, though this time it has a filter over his nose and mouth that makes him look like a green sub-zero. He looks like a Halo soldier.

"Uh, hey there." Rena says, very eloquently. For some reason, she is stuck in place.

"Hey," Carapace briefly inclines his head to her, then looks over her shoulder to catch sight of Ladybug, "And I thought Chat looked weird." he murmurs, to her or himself, Rena can't tell.

"Sorry to say, but you can't really judge." Rena remarks. If any one of them could work the flame retardant fit, it would be him, but still. Rena is tempted to glance him over again, but refrains. They're still standing close.

"Hey, not trying to judge, just in for the jury," Carapace shrugs. Returning his gaze to her, he finally seems to notice how little space there is between them and takes a step back. With the new distance, he subtly takes in her appearance, but he doesn't have a comment for her. Guess jury's out.

"Milady," they turn to see Chat bowed over Ladybug's hand. The heroine pulls away before he can sweep it up to where his lips would be, deadpanning. Chat doesn't mind it with the same calm he brushes off most her displeasure with. "You sure took your time getting here. Was it because you were getting all dolled up for me?" he asks grinning Cheshire, referring to her armored bug suit. She is more of a miraculous beetle, honestly.

"You wish," greets Ladybug. Her tone is lined with humor, but then she is all business. "Alright, boys: what do you know about how this started?"

"Chat and I did some recon," Carapace answers, the subject turning his voice full and flat. "A guy named Antoine apparently made a false call to the fire department. He honestly believed there was a fire and allegedly tried to explain that, but when the firefighter went upstairs and didn't find a fire, he just... went ballistic."

"Ballistic?"

"I'm sure the dude's had his time wasted a lot," Carapace explains, "and if I'm being honest, a lot of people seem to take the fire force for granted. You remember Chloe Bourgeois?"

Ladybug tenses curiously and Chat Noir almost seems to smile through his eyes. "What about her?" asks Ladybug.

"Apparently, she reported a false emergency a couple days ago to get out of class. The firefighter who responded that day is the same guy who got akumatized today."

"Side note," Rena intercedes, "we're certain that she isn't conspiring with Hawkmoth?" she asks. No one can tell if it's in humor or seriousness.

It's Chat who breaks the awkward stare-off. "Look," he reasons, "Chloe can be a little terrible, but she'd never team up with a known evil supervillain. It's just not her."

"You're right, her ego couldn't handle a team." Rena quips on reflex.

To Rena's surprise, Carapace leans in a little to whisper in her ear, "It can hardly handle her own head."

Rena nearly laughs aloud, but her mind has already decided the words shouldn't be shared, so she holds it in to avoid questions.

"I mean, miss Bourgeois doesn't have evil intentions," Chat nearly hisses, his ears pushing back. "And besides that, she isn't the only one that has raised false alarms! There are administrators and people all over Paris who waste firefighters' time with unimportant things or the wrong things all the time. The guy was probably sick of it all."

"I didn't mean—"

"It doesn't matter," Ladybug speaks up for the first time. "This is all besides the point and we don't have any time to waste. What else have you got on the akuma, boys?"

"He calls himself Flame-Thrower," says Carapace. "He's an actual hot-head–"

"Head engulfed in flames," Chat Noir illustrates, hands floating around his head to mimic fire. "Real bad temper."

"He shoots fire out of a water hose that's tied around him."

"Yeah, and after he shoots fire somewhere, he can control how big the fire is and which way it blows."

"Most of the time it blows in his direction, though," Carapace shrugs in an uncomfortable way. "Like a Home setting or something."

Ladybug nods firmly. "Okay. The fire is blowing to the south. We'll split into our usual teams. Chat and I will confront Flame-Thrower at the zoo and protect the animals. Rena, Carapace: Race ahead to the Seine. We'll push the akuma your way so we can corral him into the water. If we put out his flames, he shouldn't be able to cause any more damage— at the very least it'll give me a window to get in close and break the akumatized object."

"About that," Chat says, "Shouldn't I be the one to break the object? After all, I weild the power of destruction."

"Not now, Chat," Ladybug brushes him off. Chat pouts. Ladybug looks to the other heroes. "You guys go. We'll see you soon."

Rena Rouge and Carapace nod, then speed away.

As they take off, Rena hears, "Come on, Milady, we're supposed to be a balanced duo! You purify the akuma, I should get to destroy the object!"

"If you really want to, Chaton..."

Something is off.

Carapace's movements betray nothing, but there's something different about the way he breathes. It's almost like he's bummed, like he doesn't feel like doing anything but knows he has to; mature enough to do what he needs to do but not clever enough to hide his feelings— at least, not from Rena.

Their entire way to the Seine is silent. When they land on a building no more than ten meters from the pier, Carapace watches the city and Alya watches him. His profile is pinched— aggravated— his hands gripping his biceps, his back tense; so unlike the relaxed posture he normally has. A minute passes and he's still said nothing. The aggravation starts to look more like brooding as the seconds tick by, and suddenly, a thought strikes Alya.

Her brows pinch together; this definitely isn't his usual mood. She takes a step toward him and reaches out carefully, her fingers just barely grazing his bicep. Her voice is sober.

"Is something wrong?"

The way his frown deepens tells her there is.

"What is it?" she immediately asks, "Am I that insufferable, or is it something else?"

Her words have an air of humor, but she really hopes it's not her. She doesn't want it to be anything serious, but she really doesn't want it to be her. She wouldn't know what to do with herself.

Carapace sighs heavily through his nose. "Not you, Rena." Instant relief. Worry still, but relief.

"Then…?"

"…Personal stuff." he divulges begrudgingly. "But don't worry, it won't interfere."

"As long as you're going to be okay."

"Don't worry, I will." Carapace musters a brave smile.

"Alright,"

The silence that follows is comfortable. They spend some time watching the cityscape side-by-side, waiting for the akuma to show himself. The distant screams and wailing sirens rising with the hot air over the city turn the otherwise calm moment into something out of a tragedy, but Rena savors the moment as best she can. Beside her, Carapace sighs, as if thinking the same thing.

Then, finally, Chat and Ladybug's voices sound over the comms.

"Be ready you guys!"

"We're coming in hot!"

Rena darts forward to perch on the northernmost edge of their building and stares into the city. Red shadows rise up from behind one row of buildings, then another and another, until she can make out the form of a heavily clad man soaring through the air on firepower. His ostentatious hose curls a cream halo around his body as its mouth spits fire at his back. Not too far behind him Ladybug and Chat Noir sail into view, chasing the akuma toward them.

The flatness of the night is deceiving; the vast distance between them dwindles much faster than it seems. Rena coils tension into her muscles for action. "Get ready!" she calls to her partner, knowing he can't discern them the way she can. She instantly feels Carapace a step behind her, ready to fight. The weight of him is comforting.

Before they know it, their opponent is upon them, and they immediately scatter to support their friends.

After some akuma-fighting Carapace seems more like himself. Whatever plagued him during their moment in-between, he isn't focusing on it now.

"After this I'm going to need some ice cream for sure." Chat mewls.

"Oh man," Carapace's voice sounds, the hero bounding out of the way of the Flame-Thrower's ginormous hose with a grunt. "That sounds perfect!" Carapace agrees.

"Then it's a date," Rena winks. She's been wanting to say that.

"Sorry, Rena, but you know I only have eyes for milady." Chat Noir winks at Ladybug, who isn't paying him a cent in attention.

"Not you, cat," Rena growls, "Carapace."

The green hero answers at the mention of his name. "I dunno about a date but– Rena, watch out!"

An immeasurable heat approaches from her left flank, but by the time Rena has noticed, there isn't enough time to dodge. At the last second, Carapace appears between her and the flames with his shield raised, just barely intercepting the blast of fire. He is knocked off-balance by the force of it. He's pushed into Rena, but she doesn't let him fall, pushing against his back to help him fight off the attack.

"Phew," Rena fans herself with one hand as the torrent slowly dies down, "This is pretty hot."

Carapace shakes off the last of the stream. "Well it's fire so,"

"Don't get smart with me." Rena bites, irked that he seemed to miss her point. Or is he just feigning?

Carapace assures her, "Oh, l'm smart without you."

"Oh ho," Rena responds, spinning and crouching beneath Flame-Thrower's wild hose, hands on her hips and entirely too pleased. "So you're the snapping kind, huh?"

"What is up with carnivores and puns?" Carapace groans. He catches Ladybug to throw her above the wall of fire that hits his shield, and Rena swears there's a brief exchange there, between their expressions. "They're not even good puns."

"What's up is puns are just not good." Rena informs whilst snatching Carapace out of the way of the wild flames growing too big for him block. "Second-rate humor, honestly."

"Hey!" Rings Chat's voice over the roarIng air and distant noise. While Rena and Carapace drew the akuma's fire, Chat and Ladybug pushed in close to the victim to take hold of the poisoned object. Even entangled in a fist-fight with Flame-Thrower and discovering that he literally breathes fire, Chat yowls his protest. "Puns have to be punny. If it's second-rate, it's not the pun's fault!"

"What're you implying, cat?"

"Can't you tell? I thought foxes were supposed to be clever."

"And cats must have nine lives." Rena remarks as she and Carapace coordinate to finally pin the unruly hose down to one place, then yank it with all their might to drag the Flame-Thrower into the river. "'Cause you're playing with yours."

It's sweet coincidence that the terror fully sinks into Chat's eyes as his cataclysm bites Flame-Thrower's badge and crumbles it to dust.

"Miraculous Ladybug!"

Rena watches as Chat Noir and Ladybug bump fists in their version of a victory dance. Feeling a sense of satisfaction at a job well-done, and wanting to celebrate, she remembers the other member of their team. Rena searches the general area for him, brows furrowing as she almost misses his bulky figure halfway across the avenue, tiptoeing in an only mildly suspicious manner.

"Hey, Carapace!" she calls.

Carapace's shoulders press up against his ears. He swivels around unevenly to answer her over his shoulder without stopping, trading tiptoeing for backpedaling. "Uh, yeah?"

"Ah—" Rena is thrown by the fact that he keeps walking away. She starts to jog after him. "Did you wanna grab some icecream?"

A genuine cringe. She can see it in his posture. "Sorry, Rena, don't got the time! I've got something I gotta do before it gets too late. Maybe another time!"

"Okay!" she calls to his back, as he's already turning around to bound away somewhere private for detransforming.

Rena knows whatever it is, it's probably important. It could even be whatever was bothering him before.

It doesn't lessen the sting.

"Trixx, let's rest."

A swirl of gold, and Alya returns to her civilian identity. Head bowed, she unclasps the miraculous from around her neck. Her eyes narrow down at the jewelry in her hands with a pout.

Normally, she would return the jewelry to its box and set the box outside on the balcony rail for Ladybug to make away with easily. She can't bring herself to do it. She doesn't want to give it up again. It hurts more every time. She becomes more and more familiar with the powers, more familiar with Trixx, more accustomed to the comforting warmth of the jewelry against her skin after a battle, and begins to feel more and more of herself within the jewelry with each day. A part of her goes with Ladybug every time the miraculous is returned, and it doesn't regenerate.

Her little fox spirit nuzzles against her cheek in sympathy, perhaps sharing her feelings.

Before the two can fall into a familiar rapport, they hear the balcony door sliding open. Ladybug's steps are quick, hurried; she must not have a lot of time left after talking to Chat. Alya turns around to face her and finds the heroine there, a hand extended almost gently, her mouth tugging to one side.

Alya withholds a sigh; she knows the drill, but it doesn't make it any less disappointing. She holds out her hands to Ladybug.

"Here—"

A beep cuts her off. It comes from Ladybug's earrings, announcing how much time the heroine's got left.

"Oh!" Ladybug remarks in surprise, laying gentle fingers against one earring, "I'm about to change back soon..."

Unexpectedly, her eyes grow warm, fond, and she nods towards the box in Alya's hands with a knowing smile. "How about you hold onto it?"

Before Alya can muster the words for a sincere thank you, Ladybug is preparing to jump out her window and then is out her window and then flicks her wrist to fly away with an enthusiastic, "Bug out!" in farewell.

Alya looks down at the box cupped in her hands. She rubs a thumb over it warmly, and a prideful, giddy grin takes over her face. Immediately she retrieves the jewelry, fastens it around her neck, and lavishes Trixx twirling around her head proudly. The box she sets in a drawer for safekeeping.

Tap tap

Peculiar. Trixx zips out of sight and Alya turns toward the sound to see what it is and holy fuck what the fuck is– oh it's just Carapace.

Shit!

Alya hurriedly shoves the fox tail beneath the neckline of her shirt. Carapace? What is he doing here? Didn't he have something he needed to…

Thoughtlessly, Alya rushes to open the balcony door. She stares openly at him, breathing deeply, eyes wide. He hadn't seen anything, right? Her eyes scan the skies beyond his silhouette; there's no sign of Ladybug anywhere…

"Ah, hey," Carapace greets, bringing Alya's attention back to him. Her heart squeezes at the sight of him, sitting back on her railing and looking comfortable there. Alya narrows her eyes.

"You scared," she exhales slowly, her voice low, "the ever-loving shit out of me."

The hero cringes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, I guess I should have thought of that."

Alya scowls at him, but he's easily too cute to stay aggravated with, especially now that his suit is back to normal and revealing the warm bronze of his skin, the minute curves of his body. Her expression smoothing out quickly, she releases a lengthy sigh. "I'll forgive you. What's up?"

"Look, um– can I talk to you about something?"

Alya's heart does a strange thing in her chest. "What about your timer?" she asks.

"I retransformed about a block from here, don't worry. I've got the time."

They're silent. Carapace twiddles his thumbs, then, "So, I know it's late but–"

"Oh don't worry–" Alya waves him off.

"–if you don't mind–"

"–really, I'm a night owl–"

"–do you mind helping me out?"

Alya blinks, rubs her eye underneath her spectacles. "Sure. I mean no. I mean— do you wanna…?" she gestures to her bedroom.

Carapace looks between her and the room, then lifts his hands. "Oh–no, that's cool! I–I'll just stay out here, I'm good. Don't wanna invade your space."

"Okay," Alya shrugs and turns her back on the hero to close her doors, then approaches the railing where Carapace has leaned himself forward.

She leans against the metal at his side, gazes down at the movement on the street far below them. A man crosses the street and a car races through a puddle, nearly splashing him with dirty water. He avoids it by jumping out of the way and into a guy behind him. For a moment she thinks they might fight, but they walk it off. "So what'd you want to talk about?"

Carapace clears his throat to begin, but he doesn't look at her. "So I have this friend," he starts.

"Yuh huh?"

"Something really, ah… intimate happened between us before we were ready and I liked it, but I don't think she did."

Alya blinks her widened eyes, losing focus on the evening traffic. "Oh." she says softly. Her breath is but a wisp, swallowed by the vacuum forming between herself and the hero. There's another girl. And intimate things happened.

"She won't talk to me about it," Carapace takes a deep breath in and pushes it out through his nose. "So I don't know what to do."

"Ah," Alya stares at him, mind going back to their exchange by the Seine earlier that night. Is this the personal stuff he was referring to before?

"Huh?"

"What?" Alya blinks a couple times fast. She sees the question in his imploring look, and her brain supplies she must have been musing aloud, without realizing. Alya hastily rephrases, "I mean, that— that's pretty personal."

A look of guilt comes over Carapace's features. "It is, isn't it? I'm sorry, I just thought– but I guess I shouldn't have." He gazes at Alya apologetically. "We don't know each other that well, after all–"

"I didn't mean that like it sounded." Alya hurries to reassure him. Her body surges forward briefly and she has to stop herself short of caging him into the balcony with her arms, wanting to stop him before he can leave. She doesn't acknowledge the way her heart lurched at the idea that she and the hero aren't… familiar enough.

"If you're upset— I mean, you must've been —I was watching the news, you seemed... upset."

For the first time in her life, Alya is failing with words and it makes her hurt everywhere. In lieu of a proper cringe, her face contorts into a look of confusion, at least, wondering what's happening to her all of a sudden, concealing her pain.

If Carapace can see past it, he makes no indication. He doesn't seem to mind her choppy response at all. In fact, he smirks from the corner of his eye. "Watching the news, huh? No wonder I missed you out there."

It takes Alya a moment to catch up, not expecting this.

"You mean besides the insane fire?" she snorts (her heart catches on missed you).

"Fire hasn't stopped you before."

"Okay, I admit I am daring, but I'm not stupid." Carapace laughs, genuine and rough, and Alya has to smile. The warmth in her heart is quickly overshadowed by the reason for his visit, however. While she doesn't want to pry, she wants to make sure he's doing okay.

"But hey," she says, leaning towards him a little, which the hero doesn't seem to mind. He looks over at her and Alya hesitates at his glow, wondering if she should just leave well enough alone and let him think of other things. "I'm willing to listen if you want to get something off your chest," she perseveres anyway. "Are you feeling okay?"

With a woeful side-to-side bobbing of his head, Carapace is seeing far away. "Honestly," he sighs, "I feel kinda cruddy. I just like her so much, you know? And I don't want there to be… this wall between us when we normally get along so well."

Oh. The hero's words create something in Alya's gut, something she isn't prepared for. And the bitter beginnings of regret begin to take root. Alya murders the feeling before it can fully bloom, though. She doesn't regret extending a hand. It's just that she's begun to feel... special? Maybe? A silly notion, thinking about it now, but being able to talk with him like—like she is now— she'd thought... well. She hadn't thought much, actually.

She'd been feeling. Feeling a connection, it seemed. Seeing Carapace's endearing open expressions without actually seeing them, trading information, tag-teaming. She'd felt like more than a clandestine acquaintance, but she should have known better. Heroes and civilians can't get too close. While she's been looking up at him with admiration, he's been looking down at her with amusement, probably.

But then… why is he here?

Alya resists the urge to fiddle with her new jewelry, or bite her lip; these thoughts are… new. She purses her lips instead, trying to overcome the strange weight settling in her heart– she's being ridiculous. She doesn't know Carapace that well. She doesn't really know him at all. "She won't talk to you?" she forces herself to ask him.

"Well, we talk, but she avoids the topic." Carapace answers.

"Then you have to bring it up." she tells him.

"I don't want to make her uncomfortable– hell, I'm uncomfortable." he expresses.

"Sometimes shit is uncomfortable," Alya replies, thinking of a few recent scenarios of her own (including this moment right now). "That shouldn't stop you from doing what you need to. Where would Paris be if you did that?"

"True."

"I mean seriously, some of those akumatizations got pretty weird."

"Yeah," Carapace chuckles dryly, mirroring her smile, "some of that shit has been whack." The levity is momentary though; soon enough, his eyebrows furrow and consternation takes over. In a quiet voice he asks, "What if things get worse?"

His tenor is soft and hesitant in a way Alya has never known the hero to be. She reminds herself that she doesn't know as much about him as she feels like she does. "What if they get better?" Alya shoots back at him, resisting the urge to smooth out the wrinkles between his brows.

With a grumble, Carapace admits she has a point there, too.

They fall silent for a moment. Alya's mind is never quiet all the time. She eventually asks, "Can I ask you something?"

Carapace nods. "Yeah, go ahead."

Alya looks between his eyes, sees innocent warmth and openness, and fatigue from the day— and probably this girl, who she's really trying not to think about. An eagerness lights his eyes, ready to return the favor of listening. She decides she can safely ask him, "Why me?"

Carapace watches at her for an extended moment. "Why you what?" he questions patiently.

"Why come to me for help?" Why trust Alya Césaire with this and not Rena Rouge? Assuming this is the same thing he'd been brooding over before. It just doesn't make sense. Why choose the cheeky civilian who's tried his life a couple times instead of the teammate he's fought in solidarity with?

The hero exhales. "Well, uh, you seem like a rational dudette– even though you have your questionable moments. And you're honest. And you're a girl. You just seemed… right, I guess."

"You don't talk to a lot of girls, do you?"

"Nah." Carapace rubs the back of his neck through his suit. His tone is light, but Alya espies an awkward rise to his shoulders. She's suddenly hit with guilt. She didn't mean to be rude, it just kind of came out that way.

"Interesting. I figured you'd have to beat'em away with a stick." she adds playfully, trying to salvage the conversation.

Even if Carapace's chuckle is short and worn, it's a win. "No," he tells her, "that would be my friend. His sweat is an aphrodisiac, I swear. Anywhere we go literal crowds chase him."

"Sounds like an acquaintance of mine. He's always getting harassed 'cause he's a model, poor thing."

"I'm not jealous of that guy. I'd rather go unnoticed by the girl I like than deal with that."

Carapace's answer isn't good enough, but Alya won't push it. She knows she can be a bit much for people when she gets down to tacks, and the last thing she wants to do is drive him away.

"

He stays like that for a minute, head ducked between his shoulders– like a turtle, really. Staring at nothing. Alya feels like she's failed somehow, though his situation is far from her fault.

A moment longer, and another, and Carapace still lingers without words. Not that there's any rush, but, if Alya didn't know any better, she'd say he doesn't want to leave. "Are you—"

"Alya!?"

The exclamation comes from Nora, who can be seen on the other side of the balcony glass. Her hand is sprawled against the door that leads further into the house as she pins her kid sister with a disbelieving stare.

Alya's heart leaps into her throat as Nora quickly stomps through her bedroom toward the patio door. She throws it open and prowls around the balcony like a bloodhound, then stops at her younger sister— her frozen, dazed, uncharacteristically slightly panicky younger sister.

"What are you doing out here?" Nora demands, a bit too loud for the late hour.

Alya's heart is racing, drumming against her insides at a mile a minute. She looks over her sister's broad shoulders and can't believe Carapace is gone. Poof. Presto. Nora sees her distant stare and snaps two fingers in front of her face— which is just... irritating.

"Alya—"

"What are you doing out here?" Alya's eyes focus on her sister, perhaps a shred too intensely.

"That's what I'm asking you." Nora growls. Her hands go to her hips.

"It's my balcony." Alya retorts.

"It's midnight. Get inside."

Alya walks toward the door, because it's freezing outside, but she turns on her sister as soon as she sets a foot inside. "Stop ordering me around. In case you forgot, you're not my mother!"

"Doesn't matter." Nora nearly barks, firmly shutting the glass door. "I outrank you and you were being reckless."

"Fine— whatever—" Alya tangles her fingers in her hair, pulling it off her shoulders and mussing it to get her fingers loose. She's tired. "You've made your point, I'm safely inside. Can you leave please? I want to go to sleep."

Nora looks bitter at the sorry excuse of a concession, but doesn't push it for once. "I just came to tell you that I was back in town and I picked up snacks, since I know you stay up late. I set them on your desk." Nora points at Alya's desktop and sure enough there's a fist-size bag tucked against her schoolbooks. Great, now Alya feels guilty.

Nora straightens with a hmph and a sincere goodnight. Before she can leave the room, Alya follows after her for a brief hug. She knows her sister can be overbearing, but Nora only wants her safe. Her big sister's smile says 'apology accepted.'

Nora steps out, and all is quiet and still again. After waiting another minute, Alya goes back onto the balcony.

Carapace is there.

"You're still here." Alya breathes. She can't tell if she sounds relieved or exhausted.

Carapace rubs the back of his head. "Yeah, I probably should get going..."

"Wait," Alya heard herself say. "I..." She looks for words, any words, but realizes she doesn't really want words. But she can't keep him here forever. "Since I'm feeling generous, I'll spare you the interrogation," she drawls tiredly, "but you owe me."

Carapace flashes an easy smile, knowing she's referring to the battle earlier that night. "You got it."

Alya's a woman of action, she doesn't give much thought to feelings. Feelings get in the way of the facts and meaningful actions. I've noticed in her dynamic with Nino as a couple and with others as a friend, acquaintance or stranger, she is a quick thinker and assured enough in her calculations to the point of quick action. Whenever people push back based on their feelings she basically bull-dozes over them and proceeds to do her thing– even if their feelings are valid. She herself does not have many moments if any where she allows her own feelings to supersede reason or the most important matter at hand. Not saying Alya is a heartless computer, but she is clearly more akin to her older sister than she likes to think– that is, moved more by forces she gives validity to than those she does not. Courageous in the face of her feelings, setting them aside, and constantly challenging others to do the same.

Lads, Ladies: I'm enthusiastic. From here, the real romance begins. More civvies, less spandex. More shenanigans, even less sleep.