sunday sixish

from it's dangerous to go alone (take me, I'll be your player two) part two "there has to be a twist":

Marinette sneaks into the classroom five minutes late, pigtails untidy, backpack over one shoulder, and purse and lunchbox swinging from her elbows. Adrien can't help but light up on spotting her—oooh, he can use that one now, he just has to make sure there are people around Marinette when he does—but she crouches below desk level to slip around to her seat without going via the back of the classroom. Even when she passes him, she doesn't glance his way.

Since Adrien is not practicing his stealth, that in itself is unusual enough to concern him.

A bitten-back yelp, and Adrien whips around: she barked her elbow on her desk, he guesses from the way she's moving. Marinette does something of the sort every couple of days just that Adrien has noticed (which means it's probably at least daily), and they're all used to it. But usually she squawks, blushes, gives an awkward cross between a grimace and a grin, maybe says she's sorry or she's okay, and goes right back to what she was doing. No tears leap to her puffy red eyes, no brittle smile flickers across her pale face, and it never rattles her.