He wraps his hand around her waist; helping her stand. he was a little surprised by the fact that she wasn’t aware of her own inspiration. “Of course, bugaboo.” He keep a firm grasp of her to make sure she didn’t crash into anymore mannequins. In feeling the warmth of her hand within his, his face slightly tinged with red. “Without you I am just a thing of destruction. Destroying anything I touch with no beauty to make it better.” As he spoke he looked at his free hand. “You save people every time. I’d say I am lost without you. This hero couldn’t be a hero without his Ladybug.” A small smile appeared on his face.
The smile was short lived as he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. His grip tightened. He smoothly pushed her behind his back as he watched as Mannequin after mannequin started to move. He would never like these things again… He saw them a lot during his shows and would distrust them from now on. They needed to get out, they needed to get to a place where Ladybug could see. He looked around trying to find the exit, only to find that in the distance he saw a distinct exit sign.
“Bugaboo…we have uhhhh guests. I can see the exit, but more and more of these things are starting to move…so its going to be difficult if you are running while not being able to see.” In one smooth, quick motion he was behind her; sweeping her off her feet into a princess hold. “Do you trust me, Princess?”
it’s in that brief moment: where her center of balance shifts with the abrupt uplift; & her weight settles comfortably within his hold that her world narrows. she’s stuck, hyper-focusing on the fact that he’d addressed her by the nickname he’d bestowed to her civilian identity. wondering with wide disbelieving eyes if he’d figured out who she was beneath the mask. panic swells beneath her breastbone, but she dares not ask. dares not to linger on that thought. choosing instead to believe it mere coincidence & nothing more.
so she forces her world to move. wills her arms to lift & encircle around his broad shoulders. securing herself to his person. “of course i trust you.” it’s said upon a whispered breath, a light tone that she knows he’s heard thanks to plagg’s enhanced senses.
fingers press in against the suit & her chin finds a home against his shoulder as she squints off into the dark tunnel. she can’t see them, but now that she’s not over-straining herself she can pick up on the little distinct creaks & pops their bodies give off with each step & stumble.
disjointed fingers close around one of her ankles & she jolts. it’s an awkward grasp that hasn’t yet steeled, but her body lurches in his grasp nonetheless. & that hand of hers that had been snug around his neck suddenly pulls back & presses flat against his clavicle, hard. it gives her enough purchase to successfully jam the heel of her foot into the mannequins solar plexus. & oh, she can feel the exact moment the reanimated creature fractures, the tension connected to her ankle going limp with the impact.
but there’s still a weight against her ankle. she can still feel it’s disembodied fingers pressed taut against her skin through the suit in a vice.
“do your thing, chaton. i think it’s about time we blew this popsicle stand.” okay, so humor wasn’t exactly her thing but ----- she’s ready to leave. ready to step back out into the light where she’d be able to finally assist her partner properly instead of being the liability this situation has actively made her out to be.
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