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“You mean to say that you were actually scared of these little beings?” Chat asked, clearly surprised.
He and Marinette were currently at her grandpa’s bakery, courtesy of one Mr.Tom Dupain. The teenagers were currently sampling different bread pieces that the elder Mr. Dupain had experimented with. And they were eating the bread without jam, just how it was supposed to be eaten .
Charlotte, Marie-Louise, and Marguerite, Mr. Rolland’s assistants, were keeping the teens company.
“Um, yeah.. I wasn't scared...just a bit surprised,” Marinette seemed to think of something, then continued, “ Like, uhm, how would you feel like if you come to meet your grandfather whom you know next to nothing about and find him busy baking with...uhm, mice? Especially when there is a NO PETS ALLOWED rule in your own bakery?”
“Oh, okay, I get the feeling.”
Silence fell upon the pair as they continued to enjoy the meal.
“But say, Purrincess,” Chat drawled out, “Doesn’t it sound funny?”
Marinette had not missed the teasing lilt in his voice. Quirking an eyebrow, she asked carefully, “What sounds funny, Chat?”
The blond hero immediately put his face near hers, getting in her personal space. The girl kept her eyes firmly locked on his luminescent gaze. Her eyes were not twitching to see the smirk that played on his lips.
He whispered in a deep voice ( the voice did NOT do things to her! ),” The fact that the Princess of Mice was scared of her subjects?”
Princess of Mice? What the hell did he me- Wait a minute. He did not just…
“Chat,” her voice was dangerously low, and the narrowing bluebell gaze made the superhero gulp. “Did you just call me a mouse?!”
“We-well, MiniMouse,” he chuckled nervously, “don’t you look cute all fired up?”
“Do. Not. Dare to. Change. The. Subject!” Marinette huffed, digging her finger in his chest with every word she spoke.
“Woah, woah, sourise, ” the blond raised his hand in mock surrender, chuckling at how she turned red, “you sure you didn’t eat your Cross Mouse puddings just now? You should have waited for December to arrive at least.”
The girl looked confused, “Cross Mouse puddings? December?”
Well, that was an advantage. “I think I should scat before your ruler gets the sense of what I spoke. It was mice to meet you, CMM!” Chat whispered to the three little beings and started sneaking out of the room.
He had just put his hand on the door handle when a strangled scream of “ Christmas Puddings? Chat Noir! ” hit his sensitive ears, making him run out of the room just in the nick of time to avoid the rolling pin that came flying out of nowhere.