He knew it wasn't fair to threaten her, but what else could he do? His brute strength was the only thing he could use to keep her here. The world wasn't fair, and there weren't any exceptions for her.

"Come." He led her up the staircase, knowing she was behind him due to her soft footsteps that followed his. A damper was certainly put on the mood, and he could tell she was angrily sulking without even having to turn around. They walked down until the end of the hall, where Chat Noir twisted open a room on his right-hand side. He stepped in, allowing Marinette to see her new bedroom. She joined him inside.

It was an undeniably nice and opulent room, however Marinette felt as if admitting to liking it was wrong. She felt weird about the whole situation, almost like she was being bribed or bought. It would've hurt her pride a little less if he'd instead chained her up in a shed. Instead, she was given a queen-sized bed, which reminded her of a snowdrift, so white and feathery; one large window curtained with a sheet of silk of that drew over the panes by means of a white cord on which it was run at the top; an old-fashioned ornate gilt mirror with a gold border, and a door in the corner which concealed a walk-in closet. It all felt so wrong.

"You must be tired," he noted. It was well into the later hours of the evening, and Marinette had been through a lot more today than usual.

"No," she rejected his idea without a second thought. She wouldn't allow herself to fall asleep or be caught off guard in his presence.

"Hungry?"

"No." Again, no hesitation. She wouldn't eat anything he cooked. If not only to avoid being poisoned, it would be her own way of silently protesting.

"Then," he wandered to a nearby shelf, taking something from one of the higher sills. "Why don't we do something to pass the time?" He glanced back at Marinette.

His suggestive words caused her eyes to widen in shock. He said he didn't kill, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do other things. Marinette's feet were frozen in place, no matter how much she willed them to move.

"Have you suddenly developed a paralysis?" His tone held an edge of annoyance, however it was meant in a playful manner. His words fell on deaf ears. Sighing, Chat Noir wrapped an arm around her waist, hoisting her up just enough to carry her to the bed. He dropped her on the duvet, before taking a seat beside her. Finally finding some strength in her legs, Marinette shoved herself further away from him. She grabbed one of the cotton pillows, using it as a shield.

He knitted his eyebrows together, confused. He reached over, taking the pillow from her hands. "What are you—"

She cowered in the corner of the bed, now using her arms as a barrier between the two. Her eyes were screwed shut, and she could feel the throbbing sensation behind her eyelids. Her fingers were curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. Fear engulfed her conscience, knocking all other rational thoughts aside. She was willing to do a lot, but this… She couldn't ever do this.

Chat Noir felt something pang in his chest. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, deciding to identify it as guilt. "...You really think I'm going to do something to you, don't you?" His tone was knowing, yet softer than usual. "If I were going to, I would've done it long ago."

Marinette's eyes popped open, finding Chat Noir a safe foot away from her. She couldn't believe he was playing around with her like this. Did he enjoy seeing her writhe in fear? Did he like scaring her with thoughts of rape? She couldn't believe how horrible he was. Her eyes blazed with fury.

"You terrorized another human being, who says I'm not next?" She finally addressed the rumors. Maybe she just liked to believe they were rumors. Marinette was always someone who tried to think the best of everyone, regardless of who, however it was getting hard for her to do that with him after hearing the news.

"What?" He was taken aback. "Who said that?"

"The media." She said it so surely that it was almost offensive.

"Don't believe everything you hear from the fucking media," his temper slowly began to rise as he snarled at her. The media would do anything for a good scoop, giving no shits about whether it was credible or not. Quite frankly, he was fed up with it.

"The word of a criminal is less reputable than any news source." Her voice was quiet, but still held just as much strength as his booming voice. They maintained eye contact, his eyes searching hers for any sign of dishonesty. He couldn't find any.

"That's all you view me as, isn't it? Some fucked up, twisted miscreant." His question was blunt.

"You give me no reason to believe otherwise." She averted her gaze, pretending to smooth down the bedsheets.

Chat Noir rose from the bed, sparing her one last look before turning away for good. "If you so desperately want me to be the bad guy, then I will be."

He exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him, causing her to flinch. She'd really done it now.

As a sorry attempt to make herself feel better, Marinette snuggled into the soft eiderdown duvet and closed her eyes as it caressed her cheek. Her dark hair spread out around her head like a halo. She took deep breaths, trying to relax, before her facade completely deteriorated.

For the first time since she'd met Chat Noir, she cried. The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. She felt the muscles of her chin tremble, looking toward the window as if the light could soothe her. She didn't want to cry over some stupid guy, yet here she was, doing exactly that. She wasn't even sure of her reason for crying. Maybe it was just a build up of everything. There was static in her head, the side effect of all the stress and fear she'd been living with for the past few hours. It took something out of her that she didn't know she had left to give.

She rolled over onto her other side, only to feel something solid nudge her arm. Marinette sat up, not wanting to accidentally lie down on something. She observed the object, which she soon realized to be a box. As the covers partially obstructed it from her view, she swept them out of the way with her arm, getting a better look at it. To her surprise, it was… a game of chess?

She smeared the tears off her wet cheeks with her arm, considering that her vision was blurred and she didn't read it properly. Lo and behold, the box still had the bold text imprinted on it, with the word chess written clearly on top. She felt a wave of shame rush over her.

"That must've been what he got from the shelf…" She picked the box up gingerly, running her thumb over the smooth wood. Chat Noir hadn't done anything to her, nor did he want to. It was only her imagination running wild, and her brain's sensor for danger going off at everything. Sure, he threatened her a couple times, but her words were far nastier than his. She didn't know him, his story, or anything about his life, yet… She had the nerve to say such things. It must've hurt him. Marinette stared down at the item, as if in a trance. Then, out of the blue, she laughed. It was rather inappropriate timing, but she couldn't stop herself.

She continued to giggle, as if a comedian were performing an act in that very room. She felt stupid. Incredibly stupid. Her body, not knowing how to react without resorting to sobbing some more, found this to be the appropriate alternative response. She brushed her hair away from her face, taking a few more deep breaths.

After she sorted out her out of control emotions, she felt she was being a little melodramatic. Nothing really did happen to her. Everything was okay. Marinette got off the bed, her legs still a bit shaky as she did so. It took her a couple seconds to steady herself, but she eventually got there, making her way over to the shelf and placing the box on its respective ledge.

Marinette knew what she needed to do next. She had to apologize. A few moments of consideration was all it took for her to swing open the door to her room and fly down the staircase. She didn't allow herself time to hesitate or change her mind.

Entering the main room, Marinette spotted Chat Noir with ease. He was lounging on the cream-colored couch, perhaps taking a nap, his posture rigid despite his relaxed position. She could almost see the irritation engraved in his features. She hadn't thought he'd be affected so greatly. For a moment then, she almost forgot he was a person with feelings just as everyone else.

"Chat Noir," she approached him in a nonchalant manner, fidgeting with her hands that remained clasped behind her back.

"What?" He asked, coming off as disinterested. So, he was awake. He didn't bat an eye, remaining unbothered by her presence. Still, she continued even with his discouraging reaction.

"I'm sorry." She tried not to sound too desperate, however it wasn't working very well.

"For what?" He continued to brush her off, acting as if he had no memory of the past hour, and it made her feel frustrated. She was trying to be genuine and convey a message to him, yet he refused to accept it. Marinette took a deep breath.

"I'm so, so sorry." Her voice cracked toward the end. She swore at herself, hoping the breakdown she had earlier would've sucked out all the tears from her body. Apparently, it didn't. "You've done nothing but help me, and yet I…" She tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to compose herself. "I didn't mean to be so untrusting, it's just—"

Before she could even register it, warm arms engulfed her fragile figure. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the room warmer somehow, her future within its walls seeming a little less bleak.

"You're forgiven," he assured her, his monotone voice finally altering into one of more expression.

"No, you don't underst—"

"Shhh." Chat Noir shushed her, causing her to halt in her explanation. "Stop talking." Somehow, him saying those words made her think of earlier when they were escaping. She supposed an explanation wasn't needed, anyhow… He seemed to understand. Marinette found it oddly reassuring how he could read her like an open book, however it made her feel slightly uneasy, as well. Being transparent wasn't very beneficial for her, though it did make explaining herself take fewer words.

She gathered her thoughts for a few moments before speaking up once more. "By the way," she wiped at her damp eyes with the back of her hand. "My name is Marinette."

There was a silence as they both remained still. Marinette began to wonder if he even heard her. Pulling her head away from his chest, she glanced up to observe his expression. Her eyes widened.

Chat Noir was smiling.

Perhaps smile wasn't the right word for it. His teeth weren't exposed, only a faint curve to the lips, and slight creasing beneath the eyes, but no movement of the cheeks. On anyone else, it would be a grimace, at best. On this face, however, it was a sign of bliss.

And, during the short-lived moment, her tummy did that tingly thing.