"These croissants are really good," Nathaniel said, leading the way across the courtyard.

"Thanks! My dad made them though, not me," she replied.

Nathaniel laughed nervously. Truth is, he had no idea what the croissant tasted like, since he was having trouble keeping it down, instead of enjoying it's usual fluffiness like normal. That was the effect Marinette Dupein-Cheng had on him.

"How did you sleep last night?" Marinette asked. For some reason, the question caught him off guard, and forced him to look at her.

"Oh, just fine I think!" Nathaniel nearly shouted while still chewing. Instinctively, he covered his mouth and shot her an apologetic look. She laughed, and Nath had the same feeling as yesterday. Already? He questioned the existence of his sensitivity.

He swallowed his last bite and gestured to an unoccupied bench, suggesting that they should sit. Marinette plopped down, and began to hug her knees.

"Sorry," she said. "But what time is it?"

"It's around 7:30, I think," replied Nathaniel. He was about to apologize heavily for leaving his watch behind. If only I knew, he thought.

"Why are we up so early?" Marinette complained. "The museum doesn't open for another hour and a half."

"Something about us kids being too immature for mingling with the public during normal visitation hours," he joked without intention. Marinette admired his joke and left it alone with a stuttering chuckle. However, after her chuckle died, the air was filled with both of their natural tendencies to be awkward.

Nathaniel knew that he needed to find something to say quick, before she decided to leave. But what is there to talk about, he wondered. But then he remembered that this was Marinette, and not Rose or Chloe.

"Hey, can I show you something?" Nathaniel suggested after a, hopefully, bright idea came to him. At first Marinette was confused, until he brought out his sketch pad. Then she nodded with a silent 'O', and scooted closer to him, granting her a lone glance.

"Look," Nathaniel gestured towards the many drawings in his sketchpad. He flipped the pages with delicacy, explaining each variation. Occasionally, he would divert her attention and use the distraction as a chance to quickly skim through several images. Marinette knew the game he was playing and respected it, since she always does that with her sketches.

"These are really great, Nath," Marinette commented after paying closer attention to his drawings. "When did you have the time to sleep, though?"

Nathaniel blushed as if he has revealed too much. "Well," he lowered his eyes. "I didn't, really, sleep," he answered back.

"Why not?"

"Well, nights are usually the best times to think," said Nath. He felt a bit awkward talking about his sleeping schedule, but Marinette nodded like she understood.

She couldn't argue with his reasoning. Often times, Marinette would experience an artist block the entire day, but just as she was finishing her homework during the late hour, she would be slammed with an outburst of creativity. Nights were usually the time's her favorite pieces were born from her room.

"So what got you into art, Nath?" She asked curiously, eager for a conversation starter.

"Um," Nathaniel stuttered. Well, I don't really remember, he felt like saying. When was the last time somebody has asked me that?

"I'm not sure," he considered. "It just kind of happened while growing up. I've had a pencil with me for as long as I can remember. The only difference from then and now, is appreciation, I think?" He had always wanted to be open with her, but his passion for drawing was always a hard question. It just came with the package, he always thought.

"I can see that," she replied. She continued biting into her croissant while Nathaniel wondered where her desire for nice clothes came from. He wanted to ask, but her morning mood somehow brought out her eyes more. She is more quiet than usual, he realized. I wonder if something really did happen yesterday, or if she's just not much of a morning person.

"What about you?" He timed his question to the moment she had her last bite.

"Let's see," she thought earnestly. "Well, when I was younger my mom used to dress me in traditional Chinese clothing," she said through a shaky voice. A breeze rushed passed her lips and his hair allowing them both a moment to shiver.

"Then?" He asked her to continue.

"Well, I used to really love them. My dad was always taking pictures of me," she laughed, remembering that one of her first memories was one of these times. "I never learned my mothers language, so she figured I might as well learn the traditions." She hugged herself whole, and looked up to meet Nathaniel's attentive eyes. She noticed that the shading of his eyes were almost a mix between Ladybugs and Adriens, but still withheld Nathaniels character. Wait, that doesn't make sense. I'm Ladybug, she thought. Stop referring to yourself in third-person, Marinette!

After chiding herself silently, she continued her story. "Anyways," she chattered. "I loved the clothing so much that I used to color in drawings with the same pattern as my outfits," suddenly a rosy red crept up her cheeks. "But then I started to notice how other people were dressing, and I guess I liked it just as much. Maybe too much," she stopped to let out a long awaited sneeze followed by a quiet bless you. "One day, I just grabbed a needle and followed some instructions my mother got me for my birthday and it just went from there," she finished. "Sorry, I'm talking too much."

"No, you're fine!" Rushed Nath. "It's a nice story. Every great artist needs one," he smiled. "Unfortunately, that's not my case," he added sadly.

"On the contrary," suddenly Marinette started to shiver and her next words were almost inaudible between the strong chattering of her teeth. "You do have a story. The fact that drawing was simply 'part of the package' is amazing. It shows how natural and right this job is for you," she stuttered. Dear god, why is it so cold?

She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Her head was down, until she felt a rustle against her shirt. She looked over and noticed that Nathaniel had his jacket off. She stared at him with refusal.

He laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not cold," Liar. "Take it," he insisted. "Unless it's not handmade enough for you," he smiled cheerfully at the shaken girl with blueing lips.

She felt she had no choice. With a quick, but grateful smile, she wrapped herself in his gray sweater, tightening the ends around her slim figure until she strangled the chill out of her.

Nathaniel willingly accepted the cold, but he only felt warmer the more Marinette seemed to be enjoying his sweater.

"Thanks, Nath," she said with a clearer voice than before. "I love this weather, yet I have almost no body tolerance for it."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I can see that."

Marinette was surprised when she felt herself genuinely laugh in sync with Nathaniel. In between the awkward chuckle, they met eyes and forced the awkwardness out of their lungs, until they settled into the comfort of each others company in the chilly morning.

"I have to admit, Nath," Mari said. At once, Marinette commanded the gingers attractive attention. "When you drew that comic last night, I haven't laughed harder than that in awhile. It kept me up awhile, just thinking about it," she admitted. "Look," she held up her phone and showed the peering Nathaniel her screensaver. As if on queue, she continued laughing at the sight of the drawing. "It used to be a picture of me and Alya getting ice cream with some other friends, but that was in the past." At that moment, she realized that the pride shining from Nathaniel was a rare phenomena for him. His glassy eyes were widening as he grasped her cellphone, and Marinette swore that he was about to cry tears of euphoria. But he laughed and reddened instead. But nothing can hide his huge smile, even if it no longer fit him. It was contagious and Marinette felt her lips sliding to her eyes, simply because of Nathaniel's pride. Either way, Marinette, actually liked it, he thought.

"Hey Mari," he asked cautiously, not wanting to break the thin air of comfort between them or the mountain of confidence that Marinette gives him during moments like these. "Do you ever draw comics?" He asked, diverting his eyes to her pearl, calloused hands. The hands of somebody who tests their limits, he admired. He shot her a chapped smile.

"I doodle sometimes, and I think I have drawing in the bag when it comes to fashion design," she stated. "But I never gave comics a shot."

"You should!" He courageously answered. "I mean, if you want to," he caught himself. "I feel like you would be good at them?" Watch yourself, Nathaniel, he warned himself. Don't drive her away now.

But Marinette was too confused to understand Nathaniels mental worry. "What makes you say that?" She wondered.

"You were the only one who laughed at my comic yesterday," he happily recalled. "Well, Adrien to," he added. When he said his name, Marinette felt her croissant spin with the blossoming monarchs in her stomach. Her face was not left out of the picture when she remembered what she attempted to forget. No, not yet, she panicked. But Nathaniel didn't notice. Well, he attempted not to.

"It just seems to me that you have the right sense of humor and skills for the job," he finished. Marinette forced a laugh out of herself.

"I don't think so," she denied.

"I do. How about this?" Nathaniel opened his sketchpad to a new blank page and handed the very confused bluenette a pencil.

"Lets brainstorm," he demanded.

Well, he got confident quickly, Marinette thought.

"You and I are going to make a short comic book by the end of this trip." Nathaniels mouth was one step ahead of his brain. In fact even his eyes were, since they managed to align themselves perfectly with Marinettes perky pupils. Her increasing dilation forced him back to his original self.

"If you want to, I meant," he stuttered. He turned his face away, realizing that he may have demanded too much on accident. He reached out in an attempt to reclaim his pencil, after realizing that a fashion artist has no interest in comic books. But she wouldn't let go. He swore to himself that his hand was stuck. Because neither would he. He felt like rocks were being swallowed by his head. She looked up.

"Why not?" She shrugged. His heart raced.

She pulled back her hand and allowed his hand the grace to rub off. She asked, "May I?" in a quiet voice. Nath slowly nodded his head, unaware of the present. Instead, he watched the movement of her hands as they voyaged away, then came back from sea. She drew lines, circles, faces and dots. She wrote phrases, random words and then connected her chaos into humor. Nathaniel watched her claim his book as hers entirely, until she stopped.

"Nath?" Muttered the little girl. Her voice shocked the concentrated air surrounding the two. He took a moment to realize that his head was bowed near hers, and the distance between the two was limited. He felt her breath paint color onto his dying cheeks, until the intoxication looked back at her. Then he realized what the voice said.

"Yes?" What did I do? What do I do?

"Are you gonna help me?" She asked, "Aren't we going to do this together Nath," and she smiled at him. And he leaned backward, into his normal position.

"Of course!" Her smile forced his eyes forward. He gripped his own pencil and asked for permission. Once granted, he scribbled with her. He crossed out sketches and phrases with her. And they laughed. It was awhile before Marinette let go of the pencil, but she managed to let go of last night.

I got this, she laughed to herself.