Maxine had bags under her eyes. Not little bags: not carry ons, or those purses you’d shove a little dog in. Oh no. Duffel bags. Extra-wide. Military grade. Jump on them a few times, and maybe you could zip them shut.

She stood in front of her bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging from mouth. Her red hair, wavy and frizzled on one side from falling asleep on the couch, was tied back in a loose morning ponytail. Her PJs were a proud set: blue boxers with sheep, and a loose button-up shirt she’d stolen from James McDonalds when they’d broken up. She had his coffee cup hostage, too; ransom, for when he decided to man up and give her pillow cases back.

It hadn’t been a pretty breakup. Which was too bad: Rex had liked him.

Maxine set her toothbrush in motion again: spit, gargled, washed her mouth out. Then, without much hope, she splashed water on her face and toweled it dry.

The result: she still had bags under her eyes.

“Mirror mirror on the wall,” she asked, looking directly into her own pale green eyes as they looked back out at her, “when am I going to get a date?”

It was the sort of question she didn’t expect an answer to.

Daddy Rupert was friggin' right. Gawain and Maya both should stop wandering around, they should go, knock on the front door of the Mansion, get settled down and start taking classes again. Should work on their powers, finish school, get a decent job, and stick with their friends.
But on days like this, the whole plan didn't seem all that cool.
Days like this, when the looking glass took Gawain to places that were just too much fun to pass up.

>>“Mirror mirror on the wall, when am I going to get a date?”

The question sounded sincere. Not to mention desperate. Of course magic mirrors preferred to receive their questions in verse, but when it came to pretty ladies, this one Mirror was not all that picky. After all, he also happened to be a knight, and as such bound by a vow to help out what the Round Table Crew lovingly called D.I.D.
Walking into the picture, Gawain stood next to the reflection of the damsel-in-(mild)-distress, and raised an eyebrow.

"Ya know, Rose Red, your sister knew better that to wash her teeth into the wishing well."

>> "Ya know, Rose Red, your sister knew better that to wash her teeth into the wishing well."

Two things. One: her mirror was talking back.

Two: her mirror was back talking.

Maxine picked her toothbrush out of its cup, and pointed it like an imperial scepter. “Don’t you sass me, Mirror. I’m the one asking the questions, here.”

She resisted, with all due force of early morning lethargic will power, the urge to look over her shoulder. She could see the bathroom door: still shut. She could see the edge of her tub: Rex, trying to open her shampoo bottle again. If anyone had actually been there, he’d have noticed. If any man had actually been there, he’d be a lot less hospitable than he was being to that shampoo.

On closer inspection, Maxine wasn’t sure that ‘man’ was the word she was looking for. ‘Cute’, ‘tempting’, and ‘jail bait’ came to mind, though. Yummy. Mutant, right? She was going to go with mutant. Hallucinations weren’t allowed: she was putting her foot down on that issue, and that was that: no hallucinations. Not until after her coffee.

Maxine poked the end of her toothbrush against the little treat’s reflection. Against his forehead, to be precise. She leaned in closer, her stomach pressing against the sink.

“Now,” she stated, “we’re going to try this again. This time, you answer, or it’s to the flea market with you. Kapeesh?”

“Mirror Mirror on the wall,
Ditch the sarcasm once and for all.
Tell me once and tell me true:
Can’t I just go out with you?”

Sign of desperation #42: hitting on your bathroom mirror.

>>“Don’t you sass me, Mirror. I’m the one asking the questions, here.”

Gawain blinked, and opened his mouth to ask the redhead just how she knew who he was... then realized that all she did was stating the obvious. He was the mirror in this weirder-than-life fairy tale. Too bad. He preferred being the prince. Or at least the trickster.

>>“Now, we’re going to try this again. This time, you answer, or it’s to the flea market with you. Kapeesh?”

Whoa. The hair matched the temper. Gawain clapped his mouth shut, and nodded, with a very amused look on his cafe, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the frame of the mirror. The damsel was definitely loony. Or high on something. Must have been good stuff too.

>>“Mirror Mirror on the wall,
Ditch the sarcasm once and for all.
Tell me once and tell me true:
Can’t I just go out with you?”

Whoa.
...
Whoa.

Did she just ask him out?...
In rhymes?!

Gawain's hazel eyes widened in utter shock. This is not how the story was supposed to go. Rhyming, that's all right. Bantering he can deal with. Mirror hitting on random girl alone in her bathroom - can do. But hey, getting hit on, literally and technically and many other -ly's, by the loony redhead, while still inside the mirror... that's too much, even with a teenage guy with a double set of hormones.
And she totally dismissed the fact that said guy was standing inside her friggin' mirror.
Loony or mutant? Loony or mutant?...
Who the heck cares?!

Slipping out of the mirror, careful not to land on her just yet, Gawain looked at the redhead with a mischievous grin.
"Well, I don' know 'bout other mirrors ya've dated, but I wouldn't mind knowin' your name first."

Aww, and then he went into shock. That was adorable.

Then he stepped out of her mirror, and into her life.

Maxine blinked, eyes wide.

>> "Well, I don' know 'bout other mirrors ya've dated, but I wouldn't mind knowin' your name first."

Definitely mutant. Or dream. Or, if this was a hallucination, it was the cutest one she could have hoped for. Her lips pressed down together; quivered a moment; then split into a grin.

“You are so cute!” She squeaked, her hand pouncing for his hair. If it landed, there would be ruffling afoot. Cute, and taller than her by a good few inches—she could wear heels around him. Small heels, but still: heels. That was always a plus.

“How old are you? Are you legal? What kind of power was that? Are—Rex! Down boy!”

Well, that ruled out hallucination. Rex didn’t usually attack the kneecaps of those. From behind. With eight tentacles, very determined to wrap themselves on. Her ever-vigilant, ever-disapproving chaperon.

>>“You are so cute!”

Well, that was a compliment, even if not one a grown-up man like Sir Gawain preferred to hear. Not to mention the hair ruffling. For a guy who spent most of his time in mirrors, it still took him a lot of time outside them to make his hair look like it was adorably unruly. Not To Be Ruffled under any circumstances minus... well, a few exceptions.
Of course, what did he expect, walking into the bathroom of Ms. Desperate Much?

>>“How old are you? Are you legal? What kind of power was that? Are..."

Hell yes he was legal. Had been legal for almost three days. In this state, at least. God bless New York. Of course the birthday came and went completely forgotten, but hey, a late B-day present was still better than none at all. With a cocky smirk on his face, Gawain opened his mouth to answer....

"What the f***?!"

Because instead of a slightly loony redhead attacking from up front - he was already half expecting that, after being regarded as a potential boy toy - something else attacked from behind, attempting to crush a knee cap in the process. Looking down, Gawain saw a pattern of... paperclips?!... around his leg, viciously moving and tapping. In the back of his mind he prayed a knee cap was all the little beast was after.

>>"—Rex! Down boy!”

Rex?!...
He already had one hand on his knee, trying to pick the paperclip thing apart; at the call he looked up at Rose Red, surprise evident in his eyes.

"Um... Is this thing a pet of yours?"

Yup. Definitely mutant.

>> "What the f***?!"

The death of that cocky smile was heartbreaking. Truly. She’d seen it before, on many a face before his. Two minutes ago, they’d met: ten seconds ago, they’d met face-to-face. Now, their relationship was already at its first trail.

She could see the understanding dawn in his eyes.

>> "Um... Is this thing a pet of yours?"

Kinder words than some had used. Rex returned that kindness by sending two tentacles out to grab the hand that was poking at him, attempting to pin it against the kneecap he’d already conquered.

It was hard to ignore an octoclip that was defending your honor. Maxine gave a toothy, sheepish grin. It matched her boxers.

“I’m Maxine,” she said, offering her hand. She strategically offered it so that he could shake back with the hand he wasn’t battling an octopus with. “That’s Rex. He scares off boys.”

“And you are?” Yes, she was trying to hold a cheerful introduction, while her pet paperclips tried to cut off the circulation to his leg. Yes, she was succeeding.

Yes and yes: she’d done this before. Many times. Really, she should thank the overprotective heap: most girls had to rely on their own judgment to filter out potential suitors. She just had to latch herself on to the ones who didn’t run.

>>“I’m Maxine. That’s Rex. He scares off boys.”

"A pleasure to meet ya, Maxine."
Gawain reached up and took the hand offered; no paperclip babymonster could hold Sir Gawain back from gallantry. Planting a kiss on Maxine's hand, he smiled, and then he winced, biting back a curse as his leg bucked under him.
"... no kidding."

Sliding down with his back against the wall, he lifted his leg to examine the situation. Rex successfully latched onto his knee and was in the process of securing the fingers of his hand into the mix. Gawain winced again, and glanced up at Maxine.

"Ya know, there are two ways to go about takin' out an octopus." he said matter-of-factly "One, you gotta bite them between the eyes." He wasn't sure just how intelligent this paperclip thing was, or if it could hear at all; he sure did hope it did.
Rex didn't seem frightened.
Nice goin', Sir Gawain, ya can't even scare a bunch of paperclips, how does that look on a CV?...
"... Two, ya gotta play nice."

Reaching out his free hand, he patted the octopus carefully, stroking it with his fingertips, and scratching at the bigger knots of clips occasionally. He decided to just pretend it was something cuddly and fluffy. And... Not Vicious.
This'd better work, ya nasty little thing.

He kissed her hand, and went down on one--

>> "... no kidding."

Oh. Well, maybe the one knee thing wasn’t as chivalrous as first assumed. Still: the kiss was more than enough to bring a blush over her cheeks. Her freckles stood out in dark spots. This one was a keeper; he even seemed to be taking Rex’s attack well. All things considered.

>> "Ya know, there are two ways to go about takin' out an octopus. One, you gotta bite them between the eyes."

Yeah. Good luck with that. Maxine had always wondered where Rex’s “eyes” were, too.

>> "... Two, ya gotta play nice."

There was a distinct air of befuddlement in the room, as his fingers started... petting the octoclip. Scratching, even, like there was just a particularly limber puppy wrapped around his knee. Maxine gave a speechless blink.

Pet. Scratch. Pet.

Rex stilled. Completely. Every clip in his mesh came to an absolute, unnatural stop.

Then, slowly, his grip loosened back to non-crippling levels. One tentacle reached out towards the hand that had reached for it. As if experimenting with a new thing it had learned, Rex returned the favor:

Pet. Scratch. Pet.

Thank God it was working.
Gawain grinned as the blood flow resumed in his leg, and kept on scratching. Rex seemed to enjoy the attention, and returned the favor; Gawain took the opportunity to nudge his other hand free from the octoclip grip.

"Good boy, Rex. Don't worry buddy I'm not gonna hurt ya." looking up at Maxine, he winked, and patted the octopus "I'm not gonna hurt mommy either, okay?"

Leaning back against the wall he turned his attention back to the girl in front of him.

"Sooo ya're either a mad scientist or a mutant. And 'cuz mad scientists usually ain't this pretty, my money's on the X gene." he grinned a cheeky grin.

Or she just happens to own an animated bunch of paperclips with a killer instinct.

One hand kept patting the octopus. Just in case.

"Name's Gawain, by the way."

>> "Good boy, Rex. Don't worry buddy I'm not gonna hurt ya."

It was always doubtful, whether Rex actually understood what was being said to him. Or, really, whether he understood that words had meaning at all. He certainly didn’t react to those words. He just kept testing his new skill, with a methodical sort of slowness. Pet. Pet. Scratch.

>> "I'm not gonna hurt mommy either, okay?"

The young man leaned against the wall; Maxine leaned against the sink. One of her eyebrows rose, in a you think you could? dare.

>> "Sooo ya're either a mad scientist or a mutant. And 'cuz mad scientists usually ain't this pretty, my money's on the X gene."

“Well aren’t you the charmer,” she matched him, grin for grin. “I guess I’ll leave my white coat in the laboratorium, then, when we go on our date.” Date: yep. Date. She was getting a date. Men who stepped out of her mirror in response to rhymes were obligated to a date. It was in the fine print, at the bottom of the looking glass.

>> "Name's Gawain, by the way."

Gawain, was it? She could appreciate a knight in shining blue jeans when she saw one. Maxine offered her hand down to him.

“Gawain. I like it. So, Sir Gawain, where are we off to?”

Gawain didn't feel bad at all about talking to a bunch of paperclips.
Nope, not one bit.
Really.

>>“I guess I’ll leave my white coat in the laboratorium, then, when we go on our date.”

Pat. Pat. Scratch.
Date.
A half grin played on Gawain's lips as he peeled the octopus off his knee and let it wrap around his hand instead, thus taking back his ability to stand and walk. He could have done so on his own, but a hand offered was something he would not pass up on. Once on his feet, he looked down at Maxine. Thank God he was taller. The hair ruffling had been more than enough of the 'barely legal' nonsense.

>>“Gawain. I like it. So, Sir Gawain, where are we off to?”

Sir Gawain. Oh yeah. The redhead just got herself a date.
Handing back Rex as if he... it?... was a bouquet of flowers, the knight in shining mirror grinned a charming grin.

"Wherever the Lady Maxine desires to go."

Ooo. The Lady Maxine, was it? She took a moment to eye the young nobleman up and down, visually gauging how deeply she could sink her claws into him before he’d try to run. Maybe a half-centimeter, and a cat fight with a maximum of two other girls to keep him. If he thought that was hot, she could go as high as three.

“Well, Sir,” she smirked, accepting the octoclips back; Rex promptly crawled down her arm, and back to the floor. From the floor, of course, to Gawain’s shoelaces. He had a thing with shoelaces.

Pet. Pet. Scratch.

“First, this lady is going to get herself properly attired. Then,” she tapped him square in the chest, with a final decision finger, “we are going ballroom dancing.”

Really, what else did you do with a knight?

Or with a kid you weren’t likely to see again, for that matter. There was a dance studio down the block that was always slipping spam fliers into her mailbox. Spam fliers with elegant ladies and hot dance instructors; spam fliers you couldn’t just act on alone. There was nothing worse than being the only girl who didn’t BHOB—Bring Her Own Boy.

First thing first, though: clothing. Sheep boxers and stolen shirt aside, Maxine needed some. Also, a bra. Gawain was earning massive points for not pointing out the lack of bra. She opened the bathroom door. In case he’d been wondering: she didn’t keep it closed while brushing her teeth because she was bashful.

The door opened into her bedroom. Immediately, a flock of pens rose out of the mess of her bed, and flitted around their heads. A school of singular paperclips swam inside their tightly closed fish tank, tapping at the glass. On the other side of her closed bedroom door, something thumph whack scratched savagely, trying to force its way in.

“You can wait in the living room,” she casually called over her shoulder, as she started the tough work of salvaging boy-worthy clothes out of her closet. “Do me a favor, and kick the loose leaf down the hall on your way out. I don’t want it in here.”

She held up a red something to her chest: too low cut? Yeah. Definitely. Cute, though. Maybe with another shirt underneath?

“Oh,” she tossed out. “Careful, though. I’ve muzzled it with a few rubber bands, but it still bites.”

Outside, the assault on the door continued. Inside, paperclips and ball point pens still swam. The red head didn’t pay them any mind. Welcome, Sir Gawain, to an average morning in Maxine’s apartment.

Pet. Pet. Scratch.

She was definitely not wearing a bra.

It was quite obvious from his vantage point. He was much more of a gentleman than to make a comment on it though.
Well, most of the time he would have, but once he was greeted as a proper knight, it would have been waaay out of character. So he just smirked.
Side note: Maya never wore a bra either.

>>“First, this lady is going to get herself properly attired. Then, we are going ballroom dancing.”

His eyebrows ran up, dubbed with a surprised little laugh. He never objected to anything that included the word 'dancing', but this was kind of soon after Maxine asked him out... asked herself out by him... asked... oh heck, whatever. It couldn't be that bad. It had been a while since little Gawain and Maya took their every-second-day dance lessons, but it really was like riding a bicycle. Especially for one with Mirror's balance.

"Whatever pleases the lady." he nodded, and followed her into the bedroom, trying to shake the feeling that they were doing the whole thing backwards (the proper order being meeting - dancing - living room - bedroom - bathroom). He almost tripped over Rex, so he waited till the octopus positioned itself on top of one shoe, pulling his tentacles into an upright position for takeoff.

"Whoa." was all he could say to the unnaturally vivid bedroom fauna. He felt like someone inside a much bigger fish tank "Ya do this on purpose?..."

>>“You can wait in the living room. Do me a favor, and kick the loose leaf down the hall on your way out. I don’t want it in here. Careful, though. I’ve muzzled it with a few rubber bands, but it still bites.”

"Sure no problem" he grinned as he left the bedroom, only half believing what he heard... so when he was suddenly faced by a muzzled and pissed off loose leaf it took him a second or to to register what he was seeing.
I'll be damned.

"Rex. Sic."

Rex didn't sic.

"Oh well."

Lifting the foot that was not octopus occupied, he gave the loose leaf a good hard kick that sent it flying across the room and under a chair. He was not usually a fan of kicking small animals, but a) this one was not an animal, and b) it must have been muzzled for a reason. A very good reason.

"Everything's under control, my lady." he called out with a grin. It would take much more than a mere office supply to give Sir Gawain a hard time.

Plopping down onto the couch he took off his sweatshirt and lifted one lag, allowing Rex to crawl up onto his stomach.

Pat. Scratch. Pat.

>> "Whoa. Ya do this on purpose?..."

“Yep,” Maxine replied, without missing a beat. “Yesterday was Frankenstein. Tomorrow, I’m thinking death rays. Today, though? Animated office supplies. The fashionable mad scientist needs a suitably original henchman, don’t you think?”

Short answer: no. No, she couldn’t help it. Maxine kept clothes hunting. She knew where her ugly sweat pants were, but where had she shoved all her jeans?

There was a pause as Gawain opened the bedroom door. A song pen landed on her shoulder as she listened, her back turned.

>> “Rex. Sic."

Good luck with that.

>> "Oh well."

A stack of angry, muzzled paper has a distinctive sound when it gets kicked: a lot like a vacuum cleaner coughing. Maxine relaxed, and stroked at the pen’s cap as the door shut again.

Rex: when it came to keeping paper at bay, the moving chunk of paperclips was surprisingly useless. In general, the supplies ignored each other completely: pens would flock with pens, but they’d never acknowledge paperclips. She could order them to attack each other, but honestly? It was easier to get them to attack a brick wall. They just had no interest in each other. When it came to protecting herself from roving paper, it was up to Maxine’s trusty (and non-sentient) water bottle. That particular stack of paper was an experiment: she was trying to get it under control. Really, though, she didn’t even know why she bothered. She’d be better off trying to find a rabies vaccine for it.

>> "Everything's under control, my lady."

Smirk. “Be careful of the couch!” She called. Because she could. Because it was the most comfortable place in her living room to sit. Because, by this point, he’d probably believe her.

When she came out, it was with a pair of dark blue jeans; she had nicer pants—she even knew where they were—but she couldn’t out dress her date. Much. She’d gone with the red shirt; its neckline was a low-dipping v-neck, with a rose-lace effect at the top. A white tank top tucked underneath kept it PG-13. Also: a bra. She was ready to hit the dance hall.

As soon as she opened her bedroom door, the loose leaf lurched across the carpet towards her: with out looking down, she punted it off into the kitchen. Her smile never faltered as she walked towards her shiny new acquaintance.

“Shall we?”