There are many things Marinette inherited from her father.
She got this smile that could light up a room.
She got his strength much to the surprise of many.
His optimism.
Creativity.
Urge to feed people.
His need to be physically affectionate and in touch with someone at all times.
But what she didn't get from him was his height.
She didn't tower like Papa did, she was short and small, and half the time she felt like she was a monkey when she had to get something that was high above her head.
And that something right now was a bowl.
A bowl she was going to use to mix paint colors in, bring out a desired shade she wanted for her art project. Only she couldn't climb this shelf to get that bowl. The frame was flimsy, and would easily fall back on her if she tried to scale it. And that would hurt. Marinette would like to best avoid hurt.
And when she glanced back around the room, she found all the stools have been taken, no using those gain some height.
With a frustrated hum, she turned and glared up at the bowl. She went for the tippy toes approach, a desperate effort. Stretching her arm out as far as it could go, tongue sticking out in concentration, fingers curling as best they could trying to slide that bowl to the edge and into her grasp.
Though knowing her luck, likely it would come down and hit her nose but at least it would be in her grasp then. She could live with a sour nose.
She jumped when a large hand came up and plucked the bowl from it's roost, and she dropped down to her feet, turning to see a very unimpressed Felix peered down at her, her desired bowl in his clutches.
"Just ask for help next time," he huffs, handing her the bowl, "knowing you, you'd end up knocking everything over." Marinette's eye twitched, glaring at the blond.
He rolled his eyes back and prowled off to the back of the room, glaring down at his awful piece of a drawing.
Marinette stuck her tongue out after him, clutching the bowl to her side, then turned and slipped back to her desk, set and ready to get this piece going.
