Chapter Text
The Agreste mansion was quiet this late at night. Mr. Agreste kept everyone he associated with, including himself, on a tight schedule. This meant that the only non-mechanic security, his bodyguard, was already fast asleep in his home.
No one was awake when the security system was destroyed. A black figure shook the dust off their fingers and prayed that no one would notice the broken window that she had come through. Whether or not she managed to destroy it in time for the alarm not to be tripped would remain a mystery; the goal was to be in and out before that even became a factor.
Her footsteps were feather-light as she made her way through his office. She took a moment to admire the surroundings. Even if they diverged in personal tastes, something was awe-inspiring about actually being in the most successful fashion designer in Paris' house. She remembered staring at its silhouette every time she passed it as a kid.
To be fair, she imagined the first time she'd enter to be under completely different circumstances. Maybe she'd be an assistant, or an intern; in her wildest fantasies, he would have picked her out from a contest she entered, or would just see her and know that she was the next big thing. None of her fantasies involved robbing him.
She shook her head; she had to get back to the mission at hand. "Plagg, claws in." She whispered. A green light flashed over her body, and her black suit had been replaced with yet another black outfit; however, this one was much more hastily put together. A black hoodie paired with black yoga pants, and a ski mask she had borrowed from her friend. She readjusted the satchel slung over her shoulder.
"Whoa. You humans still have kings?" Plagg said, way too loudly. "What is that painting? It kinda clashes with the whole dark and gloomy thing he's got going on."
The figure hurriedly went to shush him. "You're going to get us caught!"
"Oh, please, we're way too sneaky for that." Plagg continued to meander his way around the room.
The figure took a breath to calm herself. "Plagg, can you just come over here so we can get this over with. The quicker we get this done, the sooner we can move on to the next step."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, kid." Plagg floated over to the towering painting. "A bit weird to have a painting of your ex-wife, isn't it?" Those were his last words before he phased through the painting. There was a click as the safe opened.
The figure hastily grabbed the book and the brooch.
"Whoa, slow down, Marinette. No one's going to be here anytime soon." Plagg floated by her head. She batted him away, placing the two objects in the satchel.
"I'll slow down once we get out of here." She took in a calming breath and shook her body out, trying to get rid of the tension in her muscles. "Plagg, claws out." Green light flashed, and she was back in her suit. Plagg's confident and aloof nature washed over her like a soothing tea. She made her way over to the window and jumped out.
If anyone was looking at the Agreste mansion this late at night, they would have seen a mysterious cat-like figure vault over the fence and jump across to the rooftops. A very strange view for any observers.
Marinette slumped in her hotel room bed, sinking into the soft sheets of Le Grand Paris. She mumbled the deactivation phrase into the pillow, and shucked off her ski mask. Plagg soon joined her, popping a slice of camembert into his mouth. Marinette scrunched her face in disgust. "I don't know why you insist on eating that. I smelled horrible for the first couple of months because of you."
Plagg scarfed down yet another slice. "You smelled of delicious camembert, mon amie."
"Don't try to be French." She spoke into the pillow. "You sound like that SoundCloud wrapper, Lil-wrapper or something."
"You should eat something. I always feel better after I've eaten."
Marinette turned her face towards Plagg, only to be met with a slice of cheese in her face. She tiredly extended her palm for the cheese to be placed in. Eating something did sound really good right now.
"To a heist well done." Plagg hit their cheeses together like two glasses in a toast. A well done heist it was, the brooch and book placed snugly in Marinette's luggage, ready for their trip back to New York, Gabriel Agreste none the wiser.
"Why do you think he had that brooch. He can't know what it is, right?" Marinette asked Plagg, who was now spread out on an adjacent pillow.
"No, 'course not. He probably just collected it, you know rich white guys and their collections." Plagg sleepily mumbled. "Plus, he has everything he could ever want. Why would he need to create anything?"
"He doesn't have his wife or his son. Maybe that's related, Plagg." Silence. "Plagg?" Marinette turned to see him fast asleep. She sighed; she'd just ask her aunt once they got back.
She fell back against the pillows and swiftly fell asleep.