There is a new girl when Marinette walks into class, one with brown hair pulled into a hairstyle that reminds her of sausages, though her inner Alfred insists that her observation is impolite.

Marinette takes her usual seat in the far back, her newly cut hair making her feel just the slightest bit lighter, and that makes all the difference. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a plain black sketchbook, flipping it open to the newest page and idly doodling as she waits for class to begin.

Moments later, the new girl comes up to her, a simpering smile on her face that reminds Marinette of galas, where both men and women alike would approach her and her siblings with that exact smile on their faces before cooing over them in hopes of winning her father's favor.

There was a reason why Marinette always hated galas, and it wasn't because of the venue or the food.

"Hey," The girl says, voice positively dripping with obviously (to her, at least) false sweetness. "What's your name? I'm Lila. Lila Rossi."

Marinette glances away from her pencil, which has formed a sweater that, if knitted with the right kind of yarn, promises many days of comforting warmth in the winter.

"Marinette," She says shortly, eyes already returning to her sketch. Hopefully, Lila gets the idea and backs off.

If she was anything like the people at galas (and so far, she was acting just like them), however, Lila would not take the hint and continue.

Sadly, Marinette's theory was proven right and she suppresses her initial instinct to headbutt the other girl when she leans over into Marinette's personal space, brown sausage-tails skimming her sketchbook pages as she observes Marinette's drawings.

"Those are some really nice designs," Lila's voice grates on her ears. Marinette closes her eyes and tells herself that her family would be very disappointed if she broke their no killing rule over something so trivial. Their exception to that rule was for demons, aliens, and spirits, not transfer students who were most likely Italian, judging by the accent, and got in your personal space. "You know, I know a really great designer-"

"No thanks. I'm not interested," Marinette cuts her off, voice a little sharper than intended. It was a little ridiculous, really, that one measly liar managed to get on her nerves so fast. She might have heard Lila out otherwise, if it weren't for the fact that Marinette had been trained to read body language, albeit not to Cass' level.

And right now, the subtle twitch of Lila's left hand, the way her nose scrunched up a bit and her eyes were just a little too devious to be innocent told Marinette that she was lying.

Those were tells, she knows, because Lila didn't have those when she told Marinette her name.

Lila huffs, but Marinette lifts her head up and turns on the look her family has dubbed the Batglare, which, along with Adrien's entrance into the classroom, successfully dissuades the other girl.

The new girl moves away from her desk and to the blond model's side in an instant, and Marinette allows herself a small sigh of relief as the other girl exits her personal space bubble.

There are only a few people she allows within those lines. Lila Rossi is most certainly not one of them.

.o0o.

During lunch, Marinette is greeted with a surprise when she enters the cafeteria.

"Kagami!" She says with a little more shock in her tone than she actually feels as she sits down in the seat opposite the fencer. "It's been a little while."

Only around two weeks, really, but the last time she checked, Kagami was homeschooled by a private tutor. So why was she here?

Kagami gives her an awkward smile, as if her facial muscles aren't used to being pulled that way. Considering her strict upbringing (though nowhere near the League's), that was entirely plausible. "Hello, Marinette. My mother finally agreed to allow me to attend a public school. I may or may not have used you as an argument to sway her."

Marinette has met Tomoe Tsurugi exactly once, just a little bit before she went home for the holidays. Kagami's mother was a formidable woman, and it was a bit more difficult to gauge her thoughts from her body language, as the woman was impressively stoic, but Marinette had been taught by her older sister, whose first language was that of the human body. She thought Kagami's mother had liked her well enough.

Evidently, she was right, if Kagami had been allowed to go to public school after telling her mother that she went to the same school.

"Well," Marinette says, eyes sparkling. "I, for one, am certainly not complaining."

They spend lunch chatting about anything and everything, and it's the best day that she's had in a long time.

.o0o.

Marinette pulls her mask off and tucks it back into her duffel bag, stowing her fencing gear away into her locker.

"I'd almost forgotten what it was like to duel you," Kagami remarks from beside her over the sounds of the other fencers packing up. Marinette's lips twitch.

"It hasn't been that long." She replies. In her pocket, her phone vibrates with an incoming call. A quick glance shows that it's from Jon.

"Excuse me," Marinette says to Kagami. "I need to take this." The other girl nods with serious brown eyes as Marinette quickly exits the locker room and accepts the call.

"Jon, are you not still in school?"

"Lunch break," Her friend replies cheerfully, chipper as ever. "Look outside, Mari."

Well, wasn't that interesting sentence. "Jon," She says calmly. "Did you fly to Paris during your lunch break?"

A pause. She hears the sound of his feet shuffling on concrete. "Uh... I plead the fifth?"

"That only applies in the United States," Marinette retorts. "Which you left when you flew across the Atlantic Ocean."

On the other end, Jon stays silent. She can almost hear the sheepish smile that is most certainly on his face as she strides towards the school's exit.

Jon's head snaps up, radioactive blue eyes meeting hers immediately when she pushes open the door and steps out.

"It is nice to see you in person," Marinette smiles at her best friend, who beams back at her. "But you can't just fly to Paris in the middle of the school day, Jon."

The face he makes resembles a kicked puppy, and Marinette hates the little skip her heart does when she sees it. Emotions are a weakness, Marinette. You do not let yourself feel, and you will be all the stronger for it.

Marinette supposes that Talia may have been right, because she can never resist Jon for long, but she doesn't particularly mind.

"But since you're already here, I suppose we should make the most if it," She relents, and Jon's expression immediately shifts back into that blinding smile, the one that never failed to sway someone to his side.

"Great! Where do you think we should go?" Jon asks, and Marinette tilts her head, pretending to think for a moment, though she already has a place in mind.

"The park," She says decisively. "It is also near the bakery, so you can try Sabine's egg custard tarts as well on the way.

Jon hums thoughtfully. "Are they as good as Alfred's?"

Marinette stands on her toes so she can whisper in his ear, though the gesture is only superficial because of his super-hearing. "Do not tell Alfred, but I think they may actually be better," She confesses. "Alfred never quite found the perfect ratio of egg yolk and cream to get the texture exactly right."

She basks in the sound of his laughter the way a cat seeks out a patch of warm sunshine. "Lead the way, Mari."

.o0o.

Marinette is walking alongside Jon in the park, listening to him talk about the Titans' latest mission, when she notices a familiar person sitting on a park bench, thumbing through an ancient-looking book.

As soon as her mind registers that it's Lila, the new girl from earlier, Tikki wriggles frantically inside her jacket pocket – a sign that they need to talk.

"Cover me," She hisses to Jon, who nods instantly as she ducks behind a tree, and he strategically places himself so that he can both hide her from outside eyes and still remain casual. Curse parks and their lack of good places to hide.

As soon as they're tucked away from prying eyes, Tikki zips out of her jacket.

"That book," The kwami says, flitting agitatedly through the air. "We need to get that book, Marinette. It belongs to the Guardian."

"Tt. Did that pathetic fool lose it along with the butterfly and peacock miraculouses?" Marinette tuts, before growing serious again. "Why is this book important?"

"It has all the known information on the miraculouses," Her kwami replies, looking at her with wide, pleading blue eyes. "That information could be super dangerous in the wrong hands. I know you don't like the Guardian, Marinette, but the book is much safer in his care than it is in the outside world."

Marinette sighs. "I know that. Fu is still an idiot, but I'll retrieve the book for him."

Tikki nods once and tucks herself back into Marinette's jacket pocket. Jon, having heard the entire exchange, knows that is his cue to leave his position, and they fold seamlessly back into their walking rhythm, Jon picking up his story right where he left off like it never even happened.

But they both watch the brunette with sharp eyes, always keeping her in the corner of their vision, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette notices Adrien enter the park. Moments later, Lila sees him too, and stands up, throwing the book into a nearby trash can in one smooth motion before moving to meet him.

Inside her pocket, Tikki gives a scandalized gasp that she elects to ignore in favor of flashing a hand signal at Jon. Go.

If he weren't here, she'd find a way to sneak it out of the trash can herself in broad daylight with no cover. After all, she was a Bat. They always found a way.

But it is so much simpler to just have her friend put on a burst of super speed, gone and back in less than a blink of an eye with the ancient book in hand.

Thank you, Marinette signs with one hand, bringing her fingers up towards her lips before moving them down and out towards Jon, who tilts his head in a cheerful grin, radioactive blue eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun.

Always, he signs back, right index finger pointing to the sky as he draws a circle in the air, the back of his hand facing her. Always.