Miraculous Fencing With A Fox

Characters: Sophie Adrien Agreste Marinette Dupain
Rated: PG-13
Summary: During a chance meeting at the gym, Marinette gets a lesson about fencing (and life) from Sophie before tensions run high when Adrien joins them and Mari loses her temper as an impromptu sparring match takes place.
OOC Date: Thu Jan 04 18:18:18 2018
IC Date: Thu Jan 04 06:21 2018
Where: The mat room of a high priced, 'elite' gym near Central Park.

It's not the sort've gym anyone gets into, it takes some cash to get your butt in here. Off hours it's downright delightful, if only because the place is all but empty. Thursday nights, like tonight? Well Theres a big padded gym area with rings and horses and bars, a retreat for gymnastic types invaded every thursday by fencers. They're a polite lot, grey haired fellows who's manner is decidedly gentlemanly. There is unfortunately, something of a war brewing between these fellows. Younger sorts have showed up the last two meets, armed with more HEMA oriented fair and prone to droning on about the inferiority of fencing.

Tonight then, the two young fellows are in attendance but theres a new fencer in attendance as well. Clad in the stark black cloth of a fencing instructor, French flag on one shoulder. Her face obscured for the moment with that fencing mask, as she sets up her weaponry. Epee, Foils, and a dulled rapier. It seems, the fencers went and got themselves a ringer…

Marinette was still getting used to the way the gyms here pushed things together in such a manner rather than just … scheduling things properly. It was a slow adjustment but she was getting there.

SHe knew that she'd be sharing the room tonight with those outside of gymnastics. She knew it would fencing. The older gentlemen that tended to come to such things made her grin and reminded her of her home in Paris. She had tried fencing once when she was much younger… Just once. At the time, Mari and pointy things really shouldn't have been mixed.

This evening, as she enters the room, eyes rolling at the men her age who want to complain and whine about the older men Mari enjoys watching fence, she spots the newcomer and can't help but arch a brow.

She knows one of the other gymnasts is talking to her, going on about when Mari's new line will be coming out. At times like this, Marinette has learned to ignore such questions with the simple response of, "Off hours, sorry."

Besides, she's more intrigued by what she suspects is about to happen. It's why she's leaning back against the wall and watching, an almost proud smirk on her lips as she catches sight of flag.

Marinette Dupain has reconnected.

Theres a fellow with a Katana, because of course there is. How could there not be, and he's first up to the line. Theres some sort of trash talk going on over there, but the black coated fencer has no apparent retort. She simply snags herself that rapier and gives it a flick of the wrist, enough to illicit a whistle of that tip whistling. A pause, for one of the fencers to attach a sharpie to the tip with a generous amount of tape and off she goes. "En garde, Prets?" her voice is soft, and drenched with a french accent surely.

She folds her off hand into the small of her back and draws that rapier up before her face before pausing, as still as a statue. The call comes, and the first round ends almost instantly. That sword never seems to move, merely vanishing and reappearing without any of the apparent movement. A thick black splot appearing over the "Samurai"s heart. Round two ends much the same, with a thick splot appearing on his face shield, round three is a kidney shot and so it goes for a full match. His associate, a fellow with a sword and shield? He fares no better, and well two complete matches and she never let the "hema" fellows get so much as a swing in. Dejected, the pair depart.

Our fencer steps away finally, to remove that sharpie from her rapier before lifting her face shield up and sliding the helmet off. She's cut her hair since Paris, and sure she's got the thick black face paint below her eyes but it's "Francine Fabre" alright. The infamous fencer of Paris, but then again back then they just called her "The Foil". Escaped from prison after her partner died, but that was forever ago right? Here she is in the flesh, the French fugitive Hero. The fencers she's surrounded with don't seem to mind, if they even know. It's all back pats and smiles over there.

At some point during those matches, Marinette had moved out onto the mats and began going through her own routine. Stretching was a series of advanced yoga moves and the routine was one that, while Mari completed it with ease, many on the mats with her this evening would be hard pressed to pull off. If they could at all.

While it seemed as if her full attention had been on what she was doing, she had, in fact, kept an eye on the fencing that was going on not too far from them. Watching the pair walk off while pouting had her chuckling and shaking her head. They'd never survive back home, really.

It's when Sophie's mask comes off that Mari pauses in her movements. Snatching a towel from her bag, she grabs the two bottles of water she had bought on her way in and makes her way over to Sophie. "Joué bon, Madame." (Well played, ma'am). An unopened bottle of water is held out to her in greeting with her words.

"They played themselves, I only offered them a mirror."Sophie's response is instant, before she so much as turns. Offered in that rough hewn Parisian accent, something her charm school never quite cured her of. "Thankyou, miss. I do hope you didn't come looking to learn how to fence, I'm afraid I no longer give lessons. I'm happy to direct you to a good instructor though, there are several in the city?"Sword tucked into the crook of one folded arm, before she accepts the bottle. Deftly popping the cap off with the same hand she's holding the water bottle, which is a neat trick right?

"Oh good heavens, listen to me. I've been terribly rude haven't I, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Sophie Graf, I'd offer to introduce you to the fellows but I'm afraid they'll turn all Don Quixote on us. Men with swords tend to be succeptable to such things, can't let them get too close to the ladies."

Oh, she's well aware of how very true that last statement can be and it has Marinette chuckling. "No. I'm not looking for an instructor." She could have Adrien teach her if she wanted to learn. "I tried fencing when I was younger. It taught me a very important lesson. I should not wield anything that has a pointy end to it," is said with a laugh before she opens her own water bottle.

"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng." A hand is offered out to her. "I enjoying watching fencing far more than participating. It was nice to see them put in their place." Sadly, many of the 'old arts' are going out of style.

"See you just had something too short. Proper fencing means theres no pointy bit any closer than four feet away."Fencing humor, ladies and gents. Anywho, Sophie offers a smile and a shrug. "Oh it's difficult to keep anything important in the Olympics, people forget that the games were originally about displaying military skills. Fighting, Running, that sort of thing. Now they fret over the continued inclusion of any of the shooting sports. Once those go, so too will Fencing and archery and all the rest."theres a little shrug at that.

"People forget that Fencing is supposed to be a martial art, once you force it to become something too abstract? It's done. Foils and Epees, Fun toys but thats all they are."Sophie steps back, motioning towards the bench normally claimed by the fencers. "We forget too easily, this is supposed to be a sword fight. If you fancy watching, you should see how real swordsmen fight. Anything that, honest is beautiful in it's own way."

And Mari is almost certain that Adrien would get what she's sure was meant to be a joke. Unfortunately, it goes right over Marinette's head. She does smile at it though!

Discussion slips towards what is and isn't included in the Olympics these days, her nose wrinkles and she nods. "It's about athleticism these days instead. I use gymnastics to stay in shape but that doesn't mean I believe it has a place there." She shrugs slightly.

"Does watching them in the movies count?" It's asked with a chuckle as she takes another swig of water, making her way over to the bench. "So, what's the difference between fencing and watch a real sword fight?"

"Theres no abstraction, no place for misunderstandings. It's the way to see into somone's heart, it demands bravery but also great vulnerability. It invites the weak and evil, to use that which you love against you."Sophie sets that rapier aside, before finally taking her seat. Letting her gaze be drawn towards the fencers. "Theres a Hero who styles himself as a knight fighting out of Chicago, Indrik Opasno. He's a beautiful human being, you don't need to see his face to know he's all heart. No theatrics, no abstraction. He just gets to it, it's a rare and beautiful thing to see that sort of honesty. When the blades are real, there is no place for lies."

Sophie pauses to sip after her water. "See these fine fellows and their fencing, this isn't a war of hearts. These men love each other like brothers, watch how Edmund there never attacks to the right side? See how he waits for Fred to open his parry up, because he knows Fred doesn't see too well out of his right eye. Thats friendship, and it's beautiful in it's own way but they're not honest. It's a game, between friends. Maybe entertaining, but certainly not beautiful. Gentlemen would never use somone's weakness against them, but thats the difference between a game and a fight."

Mari listens and watches as things are pointed out to her. "Sometimes, being a friend is more important than being completely honest…" Oh, how very close to home this conversation is inadvertently hitting.

Her water bottle is finished off and recapped to be recycled on her way out. "I guess it's just one of those things you have to expierence…"

The fencers parry and riposte, moving gracefully. They talk between rounds, discussing the moves. One gives pointers, another takes them, and vice a versa. As the conversation amongst the ladies draws to a close in a mometn dictated by serendipity, one of the fencers steps away from the others, foil under his left arm, hands pulling his gloves off. To a bench not terribly far away, he pulls off the mesh screen helmet. Adrien shakes out his sweat darkened hair as he sets his gloves down so he can reach for a water bottle. It comes up toward his mouth as he spots someone walking by him.

"…Marinette?" He had no idea she was here! There is a moment of surprise and a heartbeat of surprise to see if she heard him or if he should call out louder. Oh… should he do that? Certainly he shouldn't run over and throw himself into her arms whilst shrieking some horrible nickname.

Damn you, Chloe. Stay in Paris.

Maybe he could text her.. Yes, that's the ticket. It'll get her attention (If she has her phone.) without drawing anyone else's (If she has her PHONE.) and then no one will look at him (IF She HAZ her PHONE. Ohmygod, I heard you, inner Brat Cat. OH,good; I was just checking.) ….what was I thinking about? OH, right. Marinette. HI!

That wasn't out loud, Adrien.

"Honesty is absolute, if you can't be honest are they truly a friend? If you can't deconstruct your heart infront of them without judgement, they're just somone you know."Or so Sophie offers, because of course she does. Nobody ever accused Sophie of being terribly nuanced, have they? She reclines, resting one hand on that Rapier as she watches the fencers. Oh man, yikes. That Adrien guy, it's always awkward when you see somone randomly after threatening to crush their skull like a grape.

"Looks like, you might have a fan."A nudge of the elbow offered to Marinette, before nodding towards Adrien. "Adrien Agreste, I believe?"nevermind how she knows that stuff. Instead she simply rises, casually turning her back towards Adrien as she scoops up her helmet. "Business associate of yours, or should I shoo him away?"Seems not even Sophie is immune to the quixotic pull of a sword in hand, when presented with the opportunity.

"What if it's not your heart you're worried about?," is muttered quietly before Adrien's call reaches her just as Sophie nudges her and she smiles. "It is, indeed." And there's no way to stop her eyes from lighting up.

"Business rival, actually." And then she chuckles, motioning him over even as she stands when Sophie does. "And boyfriend." Which can make things hilariously awkward at times!

"Have you met him yet? I'd love to watch the two of you spar." Adrien's damn good and she knows it. It would be an interesting match.

Adrien had, honestly, been caught up on seeing Marinette that he had honestly overlooked the woman at her side.

Sophie Graf… not FBI. No, Sophie Graf, La Renarde.

When his green gaze slides from those blue eyes to the woman at Marinette's side the almost open smile that had started is suddenly yanked back behind a cold and impassive and guarded mask of… It's hard to tell, and it's hard to shake something uncomfortably familiar about the sudden chill as he regards the Sophie. It softens ever so subtly as Marinette waves him over, and by the time Adrien's collected his things and made his way over the model smile, polite and calm, disarming in its almost naivity, is firmly and so easily in place. It's enough to make one wonder, was Adrien even upset at seeing Sophie at all. Surely he couldn't have been. He's never met this woman before.

Coming to a stop at Marinette's side (though it must be noted that it is at an angle that is protectively possessive of the blue-eyed woman), Adrien offers his right hand.

"Adrien," he says as if greeting Sophie for the very first time. There is, for those knowing the Agreste boy too well, a tension there. Because it's awkward to model your way through meeting a woman who is an ally whilst in the mask who came to your office to threaten you out of it only for you to have bumped into her later while back IN the back to help her with… Sweet brie, life is complicated.

Nah. Life's a brie-ze.

And now, I'm thinking in cheese puns. Fondu love of …. I'm stopping now.

"Then you should -definitely- tell them, if something should befall them? All that remains unsaid will forever poison your heart, it's a slow death."Or so Sophie offers, quietly. "I've met him in passing, business I'm afraid."Sophie offers cooly, before stepping aside to cede control of Marinette's space. She certainly understands feeling territorial, she is a Fox after all right?

"A pleasure, Adrien. Your girlfriend tells me you're something of a fencer?"Sophie offers a broad, perfect and perfectly fake smile. "I'm Sophie, Sophie Graf."The black fencing gear of an instructor, and well everyone present knows what she used to be called it seems. Fencing oriented superheroes should honestly get a different color, black doesn't quite do it justice. "I must say, you two make a -lovely- couple."

Brows pinch together as Marinette tries to fathom what business would be had between the two which would suddenly have so much tension filling the air around them. It has her eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. "Uh-huh." How very eloquent.

The fake smiles, Adrien's protective stance… Oooh. Someone will definitely be getting questioned later. Whatever she was about to say is stopped as a blush flares across her cheeks. "Thank you." Because it's a compliment that Mari wasn't quite expecting and, oddly, never really thought she'd hear.

Back to a subject she knows nothing about but the two seem to have in common. Maybe they can work out some of the tension. "I had just noted to Sophie that it might be interesting to watch you two spar…"

The black gear is glanced at. Adrien is aware now of what this foxly hero can do. He did some homework the other day. As the fox relents to the cat, some of the possesive tension bleeds out of Adrien's stance. He glances at Marinette, then back to Sophie.

"If you aren't too fatigued… Madame Graf," says Adrien, accepting Marinette's wants and making move to see them come to life. She wants to see him spar with the fox, so be it. And no one accept life-long friends could tell that there was something almost terse about the way he said that name. Nor was he about to touch the comment about being a lovely couple. Beclaws of COURSE we are!

It's always the vixens that cause no end of trouble. At least this one's been helpful in the mask. …if difficult to control. If he ever saw Volpina again, it might be far too soon.

"It's well deserved."Sophie offers casually, fixing her gaze finally on Adrien for a moment before offering a soft nod. "Fatigued, no I should think not. Epee, Sabre, Rapier or Foil? Gentleman's discretion."Sophie lifts a hand to slip that helmet back into place, turning towards the sword stand without waiting for much of a reply. "Edmund, be a dear and score us?"That'd be one of the older gentleman fencers, who seems amenable to the request.

Rapier tucked under one arm as she ties her gloves on with a practiced sort of motion, she'd only done it every day of her adult life it seemed. "I'll go easy on you, what school did you learn from? Somone in France I suppose, school instructor?"And a pause, as she sets that Rapier onto the rack.

In an instant, Marinette's smile fades and those softened blue eyes harden, narrowing slightly slightly at Sophie with the perceived insult to the man at her side. Her left hand curls into a fist and, eyes flitting between Sophie, Adrien and her own purse. She's tempted. She hasn't powered up in years but in this moment… She's so very tempted.

Of course, she can't back out of it for either of them. What she can do, however, "Don't lose track of time, please, Adrien. We have dinner reservations this evening." Not untrue, precisely! She has every intention of cooking for them both.

"As the lady best prefers," Adrien counters moving to pull his own helmet back into place and his gloves back on.

"I studied with Monsieur D'Argentcourt at D'Argentcourt Academy," he supplies since he was asked. It's one of the oldest and most prestigious fencing academies in Paris, taking only the best and the brightest…. and those are usually more than well-off. Adrien is, clearly, the example of a D'Argentcourt alumn in that he and his family are pretty well loaded and if he wasn't good then it's just as likely that his family bought his way in until he WAS good enough.

Of course, now that he's masked, there's no way to see the faint sneer at being told that she would go easy on him. If only the transformation didn't replace his clothing… If only Adrien could power up UNDER the fencing armor and then power down again.

And it wouldn't even be cheating! Adrien's seen what she's capable of. That akuma was fast and strong. His ribs still ache faintly. But as far as Sophie or Marinette know, Adrien's never met this woman in that capacity and isn't aware of what she's capable of.

Gouda be on my toes.
Shut up, inner cat.
Make me, pretty boy.

Adrien's mask turns to Marinette on a nod.

"Of course, ma chérie," he agrees before he turns to Edmund.

"Three points, please?" The scorekeeper nods to acknowledge the request as Adrien collects whatever weapon Sophie chooses. At D'Argentcourt, Adrien learned them all, though he was most acclaimed with the foil. As Chat, his staff works much more like the sabre.

"The Rapier then, lovely."Sophie offers, selecting beautiful wire hilted affair she showed up with and proceeding to her mark. She gives a slash swift enough to -whistle- before coming to a rest and taking her mark. Left arm folded into the small of her back, perfect posture without a moment of hesitation. Chest rising and falling slowy, shoulders up and back but otherwise slack. Despite the rigidity of the "ready" position then, she's the very picture of serenity. "En Garde, sir?" She is at least offering Adrien the ability to start the match.

Behind that mask, well the fox is ever present because there is nothing else. If she ever was a human, that welp was murdered early in her upbringing. The foil never killed anyone of course, heck she never even hurt somone seriously. Fox as she stands however, is the animal that rose from what little remained of the Foil after her fall. "On your count, Adrien."

It's only through sheer willpower that Marinette manages to stay put and keep her mouth shut. She even manages not to glower while resuming her seat on the bench. Really, there's little she can do but sit and watch and hope that Adrien puts a little of that inner Chat to use.

Selecting the rapier, Adrien takes the time he has from the weapons rack to the sparring area to readjust himself to the weapon. The only way he's going to come out of this NOT looking the fool is to let Chat have some free rein. Through his mask, Adrien watches Sophie set up, watches the Fox prepare herself.

Too much and he'll tip her off. She already tried to interrogate him about being Hawkmoth.

Which is a whole can of (CHEESE!) worms that Adrien did NOT want to think about.

Or maybe he should. It was annoying enough.

Setting up, Adrien returns the salute and pulls up in the same stance as Sophie.

No. Fighting while annoyed is a sure-fire plan to losing miserably. Best tactic: Let the cat out.

"En Garde," he says, and attacks.

Adrien's good. Has some championships under his belt, and years as a superhero to train his muscle memory and aid flexibility. What he's lacking is Chat's speed and full on agility. He'll just have to do his best and stay as limber as possible.

That sword tip comes down, and she gets immediately to work. Her charge is as graceful as a leaf in the wind, her toe work is like something from ballet. Her sword driving fourth in an initial flurry of jabs aimed right after Adrien's face, and you know it's difficult to judge distance when it's headed -right for you- nevermind the downright superhuman speed and dexterity at which she works that blade. Inviting an attempt to parry or block, before she takes a single step back and drives fourth with the lunge. Surging that sword point foreward with a whistle and whir of rushing air in attempt to catch Adrien just below the collar bone. A shot to the heart, presuming it lands.

It'll land. No matter how good Adrien is, or how many years of practice he has, without full access to the abilities of the Black Cat, the blonde model is simply out classes in terms of the speed and dexerity these weapons require. That doesn't mean, however, that Adrien is static.

It's abundantly clear that his skills are just as good as Sophie's and that his downfall is that there is simply no way he would have been able to move fast enough to complete the moves his mind was telling his body to make in order to counter.

"POINTE!" calls Edmund, hand lowering to indicate Sophie. Adrien backs away, back to the ready line, resisting the want to reach up and rub at that spot under his collarbone. He nods.

Alright. She's faster. You've fought akuma faster than you. Volpina had illusions and teleportation. Copycat was …just obnoxious and that's all the time we are going to spend thinking baout THAT mangy feline.

Adrien salutes that he is ready shifting his stance ever so slightly. Because it's time for some 'dirty alley cat tricks'. IF he can move just quick enough to make them work.

And for the loaf of bread, do NOT pun outloud!!!

Theres a pause, before returning to her point. She gives her shoulders a roll, and well they're off again. Sophie too has adjusted her tactics, setting aside all attempts at deception. There is no feint, no trickery here. She bolts foreward in a rush, before driving that sword point foreward oncemore in a rush that has more to do with a bullet than a fencer. Attempting it seems to drive her point home in the -exact- same place, twice in a row. Hopefully, depriving our favorite alley cat of any opportunity to get something sneaky going on.

Pointe is called and Marinette snorts, eyes rolling. She hadn't been paying close enough attention earlier.Or she didn't realize Sophie moved with inhuman speed because she was unfamiliar with the men in question. She knows how fast Adrien is. In and out of the mask.

Her arms cross over her chest and the blue eyed woman looks far less than amused. Or even entertained. Except for the occasional dark smile and we don't even want to know what she's thinking to bring about that wicked smile.

Adrien jerked his body as they started. He had less than half a heartbeat to recognize the driect attack, the speed and the aim. His move was done without thought. He was reckless and it was going to hurt since he had no magic cat suit to help absorb anything. Throwing himself into a slide drive under the attack, Sophie's blade just barely grazes Adrien's helmet.

It's not quite enough to call pointe.

"Oops. You missed that one," quips the copletely normal human young man! who is twisting to his toes and feet so he can hopefully get a pounce-lunge-slash at Sophie's back. Maybe before she recovers? This would be the point in the fight where he'd get backhanded into a wall or a car or a … please let this pointe hit for him! Impact with the ground for that slide hurt.

Theres a glance, but well the mask restricts her peripheral vision. She can't quite see where Adrien is, but she can hear him talking and she can take a guess. She doesn't roll, she doesn't even recover beyond sliding foreward onto her knees. It's hard to see the blade then, as she twists her shoulders and threads the blade under a lifted left arm. Thrusting blindly back towards where she presumes Adrien is. Unfortunately for Sophie she's rusty and Adrien has the drop, but she did just whip out her own dirty trick?

ACK! Backwards stab! Backwards stab! Adrien sees it, and he tries, he really tries to twist out of the way.. but only after his slash connects. Which means it's a double-touche, and Adrien lands heavily and ungracefully at Sophie's side.

He can't quite hold back the pained grunt as he hits, though he does manage to keep twisting until he's 'clear' of Sophie's reach. It's very Chat-like, the way Adrien rolls up to a low crouch, rapier held up at the ready.

Small breaths, he tells himself as Edmund rules the point a draw. Adrien straightens up and starts back toward his ready line.

Will not grab side. Will not grab side. Me-ouch, that hurt.

Under his mask, he's sweating. In his gloves, his hands are clammy. A faint shudder, and Adrien pushes it aside. Two more points for him, and then he can rest. He salutes ready.

"Well, as much as this is… something… to watch," Marinette starts as she pushes to her feet. "I'd rather not be late for dinner." A brow is arched and she glances back and forth between both participants. "And I need to consider and travel time, so…" Her voice is almost flat and leaving no room for argument. She's calling an end to the match and she'll step in if she has to.

Sophie rises, returns the salute and holds for a moment. Eyes drawn to what must be aching ribs, does she have anything against Adrien? Theres consideration, before she attacks. Trying to keep Adrien off balance, out of his comfort zone with a series of slashes and jabs. She isn't just fight, she moves like a god damned knife. No wasted movement, no hesitation once it's begun. No wonder she bested bad guys and hoodlums back in the day with a mere foil.

Sophie all but glides foreward, closing distance before that swordpoint dips. Swinging up inside of Adrien's guard, blade tilted back towards her offhand shoulder. It's an attempt to ensnare his blade, to lock his sword arm down and with her current position that'd leave his right side undefended. It's a consideration never taught in fencing schools, because why worry when your opponent has only one weapon? A hand touch doesn't count, but the resulting instinctual response if there is one? Likely reveal Adrien's combat experience includes things outside of the gym, good god she did say she was still looking for Papilion didn't she? Had she excluded Adrien?

The next round had started just as Marinette spoke and pushed herself up. It had Adrien's attention split between opponent and girlfriend calling an end to things. The tone of voice she took was familiar, just not really from Marinette.

Adrien was far too distracted to dwell on this fact. It might bug him later.

Blade pinned, Adrien does indeed tense, ready to counter in a way that was NOT soemthing taught in ANY dueling academy, but in the harsh world of heros and villians where fights were to the Miraculous. About to counter when…

Marinette reacts before she thinks as the attack happens. She whips around, grabs the nearest water bottle with any water in it and throws it with amazing accuracy right at Sophia's hand a heartbeat before she's stepping between the two and narrowing her eyes.

"It would seem, Madame, the men are not the only ones who have issues once a sword is in their hand."

Her chin lifts, eyes boring into the woman in front of her with a confidence and defiance not typically seen in Mari.

"You make a lot of pretty speeches about beauty in skill but who are you to judge such when whatever victories you claim are not based on skill alone? Now… I have dinner reservation with him tonight. If we're late, I'll be sure to send you the bill."

Her free hand is, well still behind her back. If there was a punch coming, well who knows right? Sophie dips her sabre, easing back. "Everything is fine, nobody is any more injured than when we began."She steps back, disenguaging. Sword lifting before she offers a perfectly proper bow of respect. "Safe travels to both of you."And with a flourish and a whistle of wind, she "Sheathes" that sword in her off hand. She's done, at least.

"Well fought Adrien, but you should try an Epsom salt soak for those ribs."And with that, Sophie turns. Lifting that helmet away as she heads back towards the bench.

ACK! Call him out, why don't you!! Grateful for the mask, Adrien frowns, eyes narrowing hot and pudilent. Ladybug could read the body language: Chat's highly annoyed and about to taunt with a pun. Adrien, however, does no such thing. The faintly aggressive lean fades, and Adrien returns the farewell salute. Thanks is given to Edmund, before he turns to Marinette.

Oh, this is going to be awkward to explain, isn't it? Schooling his features and having put off the ranged attacked Marinette started off with (becuase that's not familiar in the slightest! It's totally going to bug him later.), Adrien pulls his helmet free with only a faint grunt.

He moves with Marientte to collect their things so they can away to clean up for their dinner reservation.

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