"First put your hands up!" Marinette ordered as she pointed the gun at her captor. She didn't know if her actions were driven by adrenaline or instinctual urge to survive. "And secondly, my name is Marinette!"

He admired her bravery mixed with stupidity as he usually was the one with the upper hand. "Marinette? A pretty name for such a pretty girl. Would be ashamed if you shot me… but if you must." He shrugged, treating being a hostage like a walk in the park. "Although, I recommend using a loaded gun." 

She held the weapon with both hands. "YOU'RE LYING!!" She yelled, her voice cracking as her hands shook. Her unsteadiness brought on by nerves.

He carefully laid his hands on her's. Steadying her hands for her. She thought that he would try to take the weapon from her but he only lined the barrel of the gun up with his heart. "Don't believe me? Then pull the trigger."

"Shoot?!" She said she couldn't shoot him despite the fact that shooting him would guarantee her survival. She wondered if the gun was truly loaded or if he was tricking her. 

'He wouldn't be so cocky if the gun was loaded…would he?' 

She had now wished she had joined her Grandfather, Rolland Dupain for those hunting trips that she called "inhumane" and "a waste of time." Perhaps she could've learned the difference between a loaded gun and an empty one. "It's empty… isn't it?" She was waiting for an answer or at least a tell to see if he was lying or not. He was impossible to read. "Isn't it?"

Her index finger hovered over the trigger as she stared at him. 'Am I willing to take his life for my own?' She asked herself, staring into his eyes that lacked prejudice for his own fate. 

 "I CAN'T!" she said, throwing the pistol on the counter. Discarding her only chance to defeat ChatNoir. A man who could easily out-power her due his height and his muscular frame.

ChatNoir let out a slight grin as he went to retrieve his item. Holding the pistol in his hand he pointed it to the ceiling. BANG! A sound that would forever haunt Marinette as the hole in the ceiling now proved that yes, the gun was indeed loaded. At the very least with one bullet. One bullet and she would have been freed. One bullet and she could have killed a man.

"ARE YOU INSANE?!! I COULD HAVE KILLED YOU!!" She scolded as she couldn't understand how someone could be that careless with their life.

ChatNoir shrugged at her accusation. He was accustomed to being called insane. In his line of work, insane was the most favored flavor. "Should have, could have, still wouldn't have." He knew she couldn't shoot him, not even with the combination of her finger on the trigger and him provoking her. 

He found it refreshing that Marinette separated the black and white lines but he bathed in the grey. A bad habit that he enjoyed too much to quit. He wanted to offer her the chance to dance a dangerous tango until she couldn't separate white from black as she would be blinded by him. Blinded by the idea, the passion, and the lust. 

He asked once again. "What to do with you?" While waving his gun about. His index finger wavering on and off the trigger as he started to recite "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by a……" he paused, wanting Marinette to encourage his abnormal behavior.

"Don't do anything hasty!" She flailed her arms about trying to come up with something, anything to escape death. "We could become friends!"  She had jumped to the conclusion that if they became friends that he wouldn't murder her. Friends don't murder friends or at least she hoped ChatNoir didn't murder his friends. 

"Friends?" He laughed. "How would a friendship with you benefit me? I would much prefer it if I could play with you."

Platonic, professional, or romantic she didn't want him in her life but here she was about to make a deal with the pinstriped devil. "I accept your offer." She reluctantly held out her hand offering a handshake to confirm their deal.

"Handshakes are so formal. How about a kiss instead?" He watched as she retreated, her hand stained with the blood of her newly elected enemy. "What's the matter? Did you lose your nerve, Miss Mari?" He mocked as she wrapped her arms around herself.

How he despised the raggedy grey hoodie she wore. The tattered thing made her look like a street walker and not the fun kind. Was it too hard for her to find something flattering to wear? He thought hoodies were an overused fashion travesty but he understood why they were popular. He just couldn't understand why she picked this one. It was obviously a man's hoodie covered with what he assumed were food stains.

He had inherited his father's eye for fashion. Both a blessing and a curse. But anyone with a sound mind anyone would agree that this hoodie should be burned. ChatNoir knew if he ever got her to take it off that's exactly what he would do. Burn the fucker. 

He was not as classically clad as he normally was so perhaps he lacked the right to be harsh about her wardrobe choices. But at least he could blame the red that decorated his dress shirt on a vigorously shaken bottle of sangria. 

"Was that too forward? Although you did kiss me first… not that I minded. But, being my playmate entails a lot more than kissing you know." He carefully crept forward wanting to touch her. 

She stood her ground even though every bone in her body was telling her to run. Run from him. But, she was deprived of superpowers to outrun a bullet or at least deflect it. "I know." 

"Your uniform is much more flattering." He said as he used his weapon to pull up the edge of her hoodie until he could see the start of her white blouse. Earlier he savored the way her red apron wrapped around her slender body as if she was daring him to unwrap her. Her apron strings tied sloppily but who cares how the bow looks when it's about what the bow is put on.

"Could we do dinner or something first before you… uh… do something like that?" She said putting her hand on his upper arm which caused him to stop before he pulled up her blouse next.

He could not help but to grin as he imagined what little Miss Mari looked all dolled up. A pair of heels, a cocktail dress, crimson lipstick. "Only if you volunteer to be dessert."