(week 9 - tuesday.)

[erythristic]

[this is something she has to do. not because she wants to - heavens no, she'd rather keep her distance and let them make their own choices about what they thought of her now, with her secret out to everyone - but because she promised. words in black and white, a last request, and a pressing responsibility on it all. a duty.

so it's in the morning that she's gathered herself up and made her way over to Marinette's room. she's hoping they'll be in there - that one of them will, at least, and that she'll be able to say something before inevitably being hit full force with the anger that comes from people so devoted to justice and the right thing.]

Comments

[missmaladroite]

[Marinette's already exhausted, but steely. Her anger's kept her going the last couple of days, and with how overwhelmingly awful everything has been, including the secrets, the only way she can keep going is like this. To soldier on. Because she's Ladybug and she has to save people as much as she can, even if she has no idea if she's doing the right thing or not. She'd been strategizing what to do with Adrien, tensely sitting beside him on the bed, but now that someone's knocking, she reluctantly stands up and goes to the door, and opens it about an inch]

Who is it?

[Maybe Adrien will pull it open all the way]

[monsieurchatastrophe]

[Adrien has a to-do list the size of fucking Texas, so hearing that knock does make him heave an exasperated sigh at first. But he's quick to follow Marinette's lead in getting up, putting a hand on Marinette's shoulder and smiling at her with an eyebrow raised.]

Feeling a bit rude this morning, Mari?

[he does open it all the way because he has been raised right!!!! and also y'know polite niceness is his go-to mask]

[erythristic]

[outside the door is familiar crimson hair, and Grell looking more...subdued than either of them would have seen her before. like she's tired, or more like she's containing herself. her expression is neutral, unreadable, and she can't even bring herself to smile to be polite to them.]

Marinette. Adrien. May I speak with you?

[both of them meant...double the force of whatever was to come, she thinks.]

[missmaladroite]

[The shoulder touch does settle her down a little, as does Adrien softly chiding her, but once she sees Grell, her expression darkens.]

[Her past was her past and not really Marinete's business. If she were feeling a little more charitable she might try to forget what she saw and only judge Grell but her present actions, but after everything, she's too exhausted.]

What do you want?

[It's bitter, but more tired than angry.]

[monsieurchatastrophe]

[is there a look of long-suffering passing through adrien's face for a second. yes. still, it's easily replaced by curiosity, because of all people he'd expect to visit them this morning, Grell wasn't top of the list.

... and the long suffering continues a bit because whatever Grell wants, it's probably better to not let her try to have this conversation in a doorway]

Shouldn't we let her in?

[it's ultimately Marinette's choice, which is why it's left as a question, but ... again, doorways.]

[erythristic]

I only wish to talk for five minutes. Three can be done if that's more preferable.

[if she chooses her words carefully to get to the point swiftly, because she saw that change in expression on Marinette's face. and as long as she's just in the doorway, she holds up her hands so they can see there's no weapons involved.]

[missmaladroite]

[Honestly, she doesn't want to let Grell in. She wants to curl up with Adrien and forget all of this happened and not have to think about anything except for him.]

[Sadly, that's not an option. She's terse, but after a second, she sighs and nods to Adrien, then to Grell. She's not really concerned about being attacked, but it does help that Grell's showing her she's unarmed. Somehow.]

...Okay. Come in.

[And she'll step back to let Grell in, but she doesn't look particularly happy about it. Then again, she's looked pretty unhappy these past few days, so Grell probably shouldn't take it personally]

[monsieurchatastrophe]

[Adrien himself will give Grell an awkward smile as she comes in. He can't even begin to associate her with the legends of Jack the Ripper back home, and it's weird to think a few days ago he'd been dramatically promising to take good care of her "scythe".

Still, she came to them, so it must be important. He's staying by Marinette's side, though, hands clasped behind his back.]

What did you need to talk about?

[erythristic]

[being let in is a good sign, and she waits for the door to close before she begins speaking, keeping her hands folded in front where they can be seen.]

I wanted to talk about Clover. I saw what she tried to do on Sunday, and you two were taking care of it, for which I thank you. But...I also wanted to ask your opinion on what you think should be done for the future. Since of us all, she has proven herself the most volatile.

[at least when Jack had shot someone, they were an alien. Clover had gone after a man whose murder would be unnecessary. Bull was already executed. it was done. Dorian was guilty of trying to help someone save their people, the same reasoning that Shelley had for her own crime - and perhaps Dorian facing the scorn while living, bearing the weight of his sins, is worse than a simple death would be.]

She will try again. I don't believe it's a question of "if", anymore, it's a question of "when" - and so, how that can be prevented. And my skills, they are at your disposal for that, if they are so needed.

[missmaladroite]

[As tired and resentful and angry as she is, when Grell brings up Clover, she can't help but look pained, even though it's brief. And for a second, she actually looks like a lost fifteen year old, before she goes back to being extremely Tired. She wishes she could still rely on Grell. That the whole Jack the Ripper thing was just a made up story, but, well, the chainsaw didn't help with that.]

[She rubs at her temple.]

I know she will. She still has that scythe- [She'd kept it, in the end, but Marinette knows that was a mistake] and she's grieving her brother and her friend--

[What can she do? Lock her up? Marinette doesn't want Clover to hate her more than she already does. It feels wrong to lock up a girl who's grieving and unstable. Her friend.]

[Well, Clover probably doesn't feel that way anymore]

[Instead of answering, her tone softens very slightly and she asked:]

Did you talk to her?

[monsieurchatastrophe]

[Adrien's the one more obvious about it there, crossing his arms and looking away from both Grell and Marinette. Clover... He sighs as he answers Marinette for Grell.]

She hasn't. [and, because that's a bit rude, he addresses Grell next:] You wouldn't have come to us if you thought you could handle her alone, would you, Madame?

[erythristic]

No, you're right. I'm at a loss for how even to begin, when she will not listen to our reason, our attempts to be kind and understanding.

[and as she says it, Grell allows herself to look as uncertain as she feels. she wants to try, but god help her, how to even start it? how to not go in there, stare her down, and be cruelly blunt that her grief does not excuse her?]

That on top of the fact that I no longer know who on this ship would be willing to speak with me on any topic.

[if she's a suspect in every murder now, could she blame them?]

[missmaladroite]

[Here Marinette looks a little guilty -- because she knows she could have tried harder to help Clover, to understand. She lost her brother, after all]

[Her expression darkens at the second bit, but she doesn't comment.]

She won't listen to us. I guess we have that in common.

[monsieurchatastrophe]

She's right. Clover won't listen to us, not after we stopped her from killing Dorian.

[it's said quietly, and Adrien's not looking at anyone in the room as he remembers the vitriol she kept spitting at him as he held her down.]