exciting and what felt like a fantasy———she couldn’t believe this was all happening. She had only dreamt of moments like this, where she would have the opportunity to close the distance. With her clumsy nature, it was as if had distanced herself, afraid of making a move. ( The strong desire to to tell him… ) Yet she turned her back on the path forward, and was stuck in the middle of a road————–unable to make that first move.
A laugh escaped her widened smile, but this smile was different from the others. When nervous a distorted smile would take its place, almost seeming forced. With the lack of confidence around the boy who made her heart skip a beat, it was a tad-bit difficult to smile from the heart, when it felt like it was about to explode. Yet now, a beautiful smile had formed easier at each corner of her lips and the sight was truly heart-warming.
❛ Trés Bien—but i think you need a little something. ❜
A hand to her chin, judging his outfit like a true designer she had a glorious idea. Her expression lightened and she walked towards him. She didn’t know how she was acting so serious, her eternal screams echoed but she kept her composure. She stood right in front of him, and like a strike of lightening, she takes the paint that was on her index finger and pokes the tip of his nose. Now her masterpiece was complete——and she let out a giggle.
❛ Now your ready for the camera. ❜
Steps were always taken to try and subtly persuade Marinette that he wasn’t who she might believe him to be. That morning upon first meeting -- terrible, terrible circumstances no less -- - he’d been scrambling ever since to try and emphasize that the traits she had presumed were not at all who he was. It’s not that she treated him with contempt, no; the girl before him had been considerate since that day in poor weather, but overly skittish --- as if he still had not soothed her doubts.
But now, with shaken giggles threatening to fork over the last remaining pride he had by turning into an undignified snort, he could see that maybe there was more miscommunication than they both could ever understand. A hand reaches up casually to try and cover his mouth, his modelling stature composed everywhere else with refined training through the years. He stilled when she stepped nearer, as if he were a doll inviting to be posed (an action nothing less than instinctual for the son of a fashion designer).
Adrien’s stifled laughter died in his throat as it gave way to shock, a slight scoff of suprise at the cool paint dabbed onto his nose. Marinette had made his own heart jolt at the forwardness of her actions. Brave girl! The corners of the boy’s open mouth pulled up sharply, teeth almost wicked in the grin displayed. Green fingers ran over themselves, as if to check that they would still have an effect, before he retaliates with a smear across the bridge of her own face.
“Even better idea -- - we now match.”
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