#marihood
Marinette woke with a pounding headache and a hazy memory of the night before. She was almost positive the attack on her was just because she was walking alone and not because she held the miraculous. There was no way to be absolutely positive, but she was fairly certain it was her paranoia speaking and not reality. But then again, she still didn’t remember most of the fight. Everything had gone black mid-fight.
She blinked and looked around her bedroom. She wracked her brain trying to remember how she got home and into her bed. Her hands flew to her clothes, and she breathed out a sigh of relief to find all her clothes still in place. She stared at the ceiling for a few minutes letting her headache subside before braving the cold floor to get something to drink from the kitchen.
She padded out to the kitchen with soft steps. Jostling her head as little as possible seemed like the wisest move currently. She would just stay in her bed, but she really needed some pain killers and a gallon of water. She had just started the coffee maker when a loud sound stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes widened as her heart started pounding. The good thing about an open concept living area was she could scan the entire kitchen, dining room, and living room without moving. The bad thing about an open concept living area was there was no place to hide.
She searched the room for the source of the noise. It didn’t sound like the regular kwami noise, and for that matter, she hadn’t seen them flying around since she woke up. Normally, they wouldn’t hesitate, which definitely indicated something was going on. The kwami were many things, but discrete and quiet were not among them.
The noise sounded again, drawing her attention to the couch, which since it was faced away from her, produced one of the few blind spots in the area. It sounded suspiciously like a snore, but for the life of her she couldn’t imagine who it would be.
She edged closer to it cautiously. She wanted to be prone to run away if needed but her body was not responding appropriately, so the best she could do was angle her body toward the exit. She peeked over the back of the couch and screeched at the sight of a very large man sleeping there, one arm thrown over his eyes and one leg hanging off the side of the couch.
She slapped her hands over her mouth and backed away in fear. It seemed she wasn’t the only one though, the man bolted up, his head whipped around the room looking for the source of the fear before his eyes settled on her. He groaned and collapsed back onto the couch. “Jesus, Pixie Pop. You just about gave me a heart attack.”
