Not Alone: A Miraculous Ladybug Story

Chapter 37

 Chloé lounged around the mayoral office. It may be a Saturday, but these political types didn't know the meaning of relaxation. It worked to her benefit, in this case, but it also meant that she rarely saw her father if he weren't called in to fix some situation she had created. Another reason she liked playing the antagonist, but perhaps a less honorable reason.

She had her feet propped up on her father's assistant's desk, and was absentmindedly shaping her nails with a file. She had been dropping hints all day, but this man was so boringly vanilla. He defended her father at every turn, and refused to even complain the smallest bit about what she knew were some of her father's more irritating habits. She was inwardly pleased by the man's loyalty, though that didn't quite keep her from noting how much his gaunt face and large eyes reminded her of a confused lemur.

Finally, a flash of irritation flew across his face, but it was with her, and not in agreement with what she had just said about her father. He stood, seeming to try and draw himself up past his diminutive height, lifted his chin, and excused himself from the antechamber to the mayor's office. She sighed. This was taking forever. None of the aids she had talked to had shown the smallest bit of disloyalty. Frankly, it was abnormal for so many politicians. It was almost suspicious how loyal they all were. Just when she was about to call it a day, she saw a woman out of the corner of her eye. She recognized her as one of the senior optics advisors, and now that she thought of it, the woman had been lurking near Chloé for most of the day. Discreetly, of course, but it was too much of a coincidence that she happened to be within earshot of Chloé for the majority of the day.

Chloé closed her eyes, and threw her head back in not-so-mock exhaustion. Keeping her body posture open, she made herself look non-threatening and open; it tended to make people more likely to approach if you didn't look metaphorically closed off to them.

After a few moments, she heard the tentative click of the woman's heels as she approached. Chloé kept her expression carefully blank, but inwardly she smiled. People could be so predictable. Then she heard the chair the assistant had just vacated give the telltale squeak of someone sitting down. She opened her eyes and saw the woman regarding her. Penelope, Chloé remembered was her name. She had definitely worked here long enough to know Germain, and she was a senior advisor, that definitely gave her enough influence over her father to point him in certain directions and enough trust to get valuable information to bring back to Germain.

After a few moments of silence, Chloé fell back into her old faithful bratty persona.

"Can I help you?" The woman didn't answer, so Chloé just rolled her eyes and went back to filing her nails. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," she sneered. She was worried her behavior all day may have started to look suspicious, so she slipped into her usual spoiled routine to put the woman at ease. People wanted to see what they expected, anything different tended to frighten them. The woman sat back in her chair: a good sign.

"You've been in quite a form today, haven't you? Everytime I turned around, there you were. Complaining about something new every time. Daddy issues?" Chloé noted with amusement a superior edge in her voice. This woman thought she had it all figured out: that Chloé was just a spoiled brat and potential pawn to be used. Good.

"And every time I turned, there you were to hear me complain. Stalker." Chloé paused and looked up from her nails. Widening her eyes and pursing her lips, she gave the women a look that clearly said who's the weirdo here? before turning her attention back to her nails. She had gotten out her favorite midnight purple color and was painting her nails now. The woman crinkled her nose at the acrid scent, but said nothing. Couldn't let her feel too comfortable.

"Besides, if you've met my father, you have your answer." She tried to put an appropriate amount of disdain in her voice. She had already called him incompetent and weak within this woman's ear shot multiple times that day. Repeating it would be redundant and potentially suspicious without provocation, so she held her tongue. Penelope just regarded her for a few minutes, and Chloé concentrated on her nails instead.

When she finished, the woman still hadn't spoken but was regarding her with a pensive expression. Wanting to speed up the process, she enlisted her best haggling technique: walk away.

"Wow," she got up and blew on her nails. "Great chat. Lets never do it again, okay?" She said in a false chipper voice and turned to leave.

"I have something that might be of interest to you." Penelope spoke up finally and Chloé half-turned back to her.

"I doubt you have anything I want." She flipped her ponytail and started to walk out again.

"No, but your uncle might." Chloé turned all the way around then, but kept a bored expression on her face.

"Why don't you just tell me whatever it is you're clearly dying to say so we can speed up this whole tête-à-tête, mmmkay?" Penelope looked annoyed now, and got up indignantly. Quickly scribbling something on a post-it, she shoved it into Chloé's hand and walked out.

"Ugh! You smudged my nail!" Chloé called after her, partly keeping up her act but partly pissed that she'd have to start all over.

When the clicking down the hall echoed out of range, she looked down at the address she was holding with a time to meet of tomorrow at eight. Looks like their plans would have to move up a bit. She smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien's phone buzzed waking him from his cat-nap. It continued to beep as he stretched, arching his back and enjoying the burn and tension in his muscles. A hand reached out from next to him and started patting his head, in a sort of drunken manner.

"I'm not the alarm clock, Bugaboo." He leaned against the headboard and watched in amusement as she sat up like a bolt of lightning, ramrod straight. Her whole torso twisted to look at him, and she brought the comforter up to cover her face. He heard her muffled voice say something from beneath the duvet.

"What was that, Princess?" He used one finger to push the fluffy apparatus separating them down, and her disheveled bedhead reluctantly popped out. She flopped back onto her pillows.

"We need to stop accidentally falling asleep. My parents will kill me if they find us. Especially you." He eyes rolled towards him and briefly down to his bare chest before fixing decidedly on the top of his head as a safe place to look. He blushed a little and smirked, remembering how she brazenly took off his shirt before he slowed them down and they fell asleep.

"Aw, your parents love me." He smiled and leaned in to kiss her.

"Not that much they don't." He spun around at the sound of the voice while simultaneously trying to grab the comforter cover his partial nakedness. The result of this maneuver landed him face-down on the floor with Marinette cackling hysterically on the bed. The voice walked over, and Alya smirked down at him.

"We've really got to stop meeting like this," he stated dryly, his voice muffled from the part of his face still smooshed to Marinette's bedroom floor. Alya just raised an eyebrow.

"Get dressed, lover boy. Chloé's got the in. Time to enact the plan."

That sobered Marinette up, and when Adrien righted himself, he saw her looking over with resigned expression. So much for their easy weekend.