Okay, so he did not scamper off the couch. He just... made sure it was not about to toss him off or crush him under pillows by the time the sorceress showed up. Standing up was just precaution.
He. Did. Not. Scamper.

Red shirt. Niiice. The tank top was a pity, but hey, when it came to topics like this, Gawain had a very accurate imagination (and Maya had some experience). Flashing a grin™ he walked over to her, setting Rex down on the couch (let them sort out their differences, if they had any).
He gave her a good once over. Not the kind that gathers information for the entertainment of the gentleman, of course. The kind that lets the lady know her outfit is appreciated.
God I'm good.

"We most definitely shall, my lady." he nodded.

Whatever it takes to get out of the office supply safari.

The red head spoke not a word about her knight’s seating choice—or lack thereof. She simply returned his approving once-over with a grin, and mimed a curtsy. Just like a proper little lady.

Rex, meanwhile, was burrowing between and beneath the couch cushions. Excellent: that would keep him distracted for a while.

>> "We most definitely shall, my lady."

“Let’s be off then, Good Sir.” she proclaimed, kidnapping his hand in a march towards the door. Her fleece coat was grabbed on the way, and a school of paperclips shaken out of the sleeve and shooed off towards her bedroom. A black pen tried to settle in her Knight’s hair. That was fine—Poe was allowed to come. He was a well-behaved song pen, not a tentacled menace. Just as long as they got out of here before Rex noticed the great escape, they were golden.

With that in mind: Maxine kidnapped his hand straight out the apartment door, and over to the staircase. Stairs: they got her out of an octoclip’s range much more quickly than the elevator.

“Race you to the bottom, good Sir Knight.” The damsel gave a grin. Then she was off. Stair racing in two inch heels: only for the pros, kids.

By kidnapping his hand, the Lady Maxine effectively kidnapped the rest of him too; so the rest of him followed her out the door, not missing a beat when a black pen settled on his head. He glanced up, making a face, but didn't comment; if she felt like decorating her knight with a pen, so be it. He smirked as the pen slid down to settle behind his ear. Hopefully it made him look like someone very educated.

>>“Race you to the bottom, good Sir Knight.”

Gawain grinned. At first he glanced around to see if there were any mirrors at hand; then the idea hit him that maybe it would not have been very noble to win the race using his powers. It had to be a fair fight.
Well, as fair as it could get with the lady wearing heels.

Swinging himself onto the banister, Sir Gawain slid down, past the Lady Maxine, to the bottom of the stairs; catching the end of the banister with one foot he turned and was on to the next flight in a split second. Landing at the bottom of the stairs, he turned around and leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for the lady to arrive.

"So, what did I win?"

That. Little. Cheat.

The Lady Maxine grasped her defeat quite quickly, and switched from a step-hopping run to the utmost of dignified descents. Stair by stair, she made sure she was fashionably late to the finish line: one of her hands mimed holding up a skirt, while the fingers of the other trailed elegantly on the banister. The recently butt-waxed banister.

>> "So, what did I win?"

“Good Sir Knight,” she breathily intoned, collapsing dramatically against his shoulder, “I admit my defeat. Your cunning and prowess—your athletic grace—they are no match for this silly girl. Please, accept this token—”

She slid her body up his arm, her face drawing near to his.

“—of my esteem.”

Her lips brushed warmly against his cheek. A split-second later, her hand pounced for his hair, aiming to deliver a punishing ruffling the likes of which the Round Table had never seen. Maxine grinned a fiendish grin. Teach him to beat her.

The grin™ was there all the time - the considerably long time - while the Lady Maxine descended the stairs. Gawain could wait, and he certainly could watch. It was an easy task, winning the race, but that was not his fault. Ladies who set challenges like that have to be prepared for the consequences.

>>“Good Sir Knight,”

Okay, that was a good start. The collapsing-against-him was too. Gawain tilted his head to look down at Maxine.

>>“I admit my defeat. Your cunning and prowess—your athletic grace—they are no match for this silly girl. Please, accept this token—”

Whoa whoa whoa. What the...? In the past half an hour or so Gawain started to suspect Lady Maxine either was totally nuts or very much into, khm, barely legal knights, but this was kinda way to fast even for him. The grin wavered.

>>“—of my esteem.”

Her lips were warm against his cheek, and the dark brown eyes grew wide as the grin melted away.
Whoa.

Ruffling.

"Heeey!" Gawain protested, trying to grab her wrists and pull the hostile hands from his hair "Don't do that!..."
It was a serious fight, and because the initial shock (disappointment?) made the knight slow, it took a while till he had a hold of both of the lady's hands, and by that time the hair was all but ruined.
Gawain stared down at the lady, still holding the hands, with a very not grown-up frown.

"Ya do that again, Lady" he growled "I'm goin' back into the mirror."

If Maxine’s hands happened to be as tricky as tentacles (and as fiendishly skilled, too), then suffice it to say she’d learned from the best. No mere Knight was about to ward her off that easily. Eventually, he managed to trap her. For the moment. Oh, for the moment...

A Good Girl Grin^{patent pending} met his Big Boy Frown. Now if that look wasn’t begging for more hair ruffling, she didn’t know what was. She tugged at his grip once, just to keep him on his toes.

>> "Ya do that again, Lady. I'm goin' back into the mirror."

Maxine looked right. Maxine looked left. Maxine looked front and center, her grin quite nefarious under her green eyes. “Good Sir Gawain,” she pointed out, of the sparse little concrete-walled entryway, “no mirrors will save you here.”

“Besides,” she said, wrapping her hands around his. Who had caught who, now? “Would you leave a young lady stranded on the dance floor, good Sir Knight? Come, we must be going to the ball, lest it end without us.” Those lessons only went until five, if she remembered right. Off Maxine walked, her Knight firmly in tow, caught in his own wristly trap. The studio wasn’t far.

>>“Good Sir Gawain, no mirrors will save you here.”

She had him trapped too. Gawain didn't look around, but he did conjure up a smile again.
"There are always more mirrors around than people think." he answered mysteriously. So she doesn't think he couldn't leave if he really wanted to. Also, it happened to be true. Only mirrormancers and some narcissistic individuals ever paid enough attention to all the reflecting surfaces around.
He didn't really want to be saved. At least, not yet. But she didn't need to know.

>>“Would you leave a young lady stranded on the dance floor, good Sir Knight? Come, we must be going to the ball, lest it end without us.”

No he would not. That would just be wrong.
Missing any opportunity to dance, that is. Because it was all about the dancin'. Obviously.
So Sir Gawain followed the Lady Maxine, making it look like he actually had a choice, and only had his hands in her grip because he wanted to.
Obviously.

Once upon a time, the dance instructor wasn’t as hot as she’d been fantasizing. But that was okay: Maxine was still gleefully latched onto her Knight. Sir Gawain of Jailbaitia. He never had answered that ‘are you legal?’ question.

The studio was nice. Not that Maxine had ever been in one before. But it had two stories, several large dance halls, and immaculately polished hardwood floors. And a chandelier! Now if that didn’t say ‘classy-pants place’, she didn’t know what did.

There were two other couples there. The instructor demonstrated a few simple steps, and turned them loose to practice. Maxine turned to her very own Knight.

...And, belatedly, remembered why she hadn’t dragged any actual dates here. Or gone to many dances in high school, for that matter. She settled her suddenly damp hands—one on his shoulder, one clasped with his—and waited for him to take the lead. Her grin was not nervous. Besides—it wasn’t like this kid knew how to dance, either.

Another first for Sir Gawain. He knew how to dance, but he'd never been instructed about it. Not in a fancy studio - full of mirrors, which was good, it helped him make his point, offered a quick escape route in case it was needed, and made him feel better - not by a teacher who looked less manly than Maya on her better days.

He paid attention to the instructions, hands in his pockets and a smirk playing hide-and-seek on his lips. If it wasn't for Maxine, he would have bailed long ago.
The Lady clearly needed a dance.

Once they were turned loose and the music started to play, it became clear to Gawain she was not at all sure about the whole dancing issue. That put the smile back onto his lips. He started to see why she dragged him out to a friggin' fancy studio instead of a real place.

"Ya know what, Maxine?" he said, sneaking an arm around her waist and adjusting her hands so that she wouldn't trip at the first step "Next time ya drag me out, I'm gonna pick the place." pulling her closer, which was not strictly necessary but this was how Gawain played "Now comes the part where ya hold on for dear life."

Oh yes he enjoyed it. Dancing with ladies who were not good at dancing at all. They were always surprised a brat like him could lead a normal ballroom dance. Not like he was the best ever, but hey, practice makes perfect, perfect makes Gawain.

>> "Ya know what, Maxine? Next time ya drag me out, I'm gonna pick the place."

Ooo, arm action. She liked. Even if Sir Gawain could have been her little brother, the red head was distinctly unopposed to a little dance floor closeness. How long had it been, since she’d been this close to a man? Not that the Knight in Charming Armor who’d fallen out of her mirror was a man, per se, but—

>> "Now comes the part where ya hold on for dear life."

Now came the part where she wha—Woah!

They were moving. Rapidly. He was—oh lord, they were turning—she wasn’t stepping on him—the dance instructor was staring their way—they were gliding over the little light spatters cast by the chandelier—

They were dancing?

She had a distinct feeling that her Knight had pulled another fast one on her. When she tilted her head up to protest, though... Well, all that seemed to come out of her mouth was a breathless laugh.

Whatever. She snuggled her head against his shoulder, and went along for the ride. With all due grinning.

Yup, they were dancing. Even though Gawain could tell Maxine did not expect this - anything like this cleary... now why the heck does someone go to a dance studio if they don't expect to, dunno, dance?... - she caught on pretty fast, and didn't trip. Or step on his feet. Always a plus. Even for a lightweight lady.
A confident grin sat on the Knight's lips as he heard the laughter. It was a good kind of laughter.

"What, don' tell me I suprised you" he arched an eyebrow at her as she rested her head on his shoulder, hmmm, not half bad "Ya were the one askin' for a prince."

The instructor cleared his throat; the other couples were snickering. Gawain looked at him over Maxine's shoulder and pulling one hand free, he gave him the thumbs up before spinning the lady once again.
Ya're supposed to be encouraging people to dance, smartass.

The smartass cut the dance music off on them.
Bummer.

Spinning Maxine with one hand, Gawain finally came to a halt, an arm still around the lady's waist only by sheer accident. The other hand rested on his hip.

"What?..."

>> "What, don' tell me I suprised you. Ya were the one askin' for a prince."

She had an urge to pinch that grin off his face, but her hands were occupied elsewhere. At these gallivanting speeds, a lady wouldn’t be wise to simply let go. Even if a lady wanted to. She settled for grinning back.

“A prince, Sir Gawain? You’ll have to treat me right, if you don’t want your royal ambitions getting back to Arthur’s ears.”

She heard the throat clearing and snickering. She just didn’t let herself register them, until the music died.

>> "What?..."

His arm was around her waist; she slinked her own around his shoulders, and leaned into him. “Problem?” She asked, batting her eyelashes at their instructor. That might just be a blush she felt warming her cheeks. Let’s get one thing straight, though: it was a defiant blush.

“Sir Gawain,” she asked curling one leg up behind her as she turned her innocent eyelash batting up to him. “How do you feel about being kidnapped to dinner?”

>>“A prince, Sir Gawain? You’ll have to treat me right, if you don’t want your royal ambitions getting back to Arthur’s ears.”

Many things came to people's minds when they saw Gawain - most of them he could guess, and then there were those he did not want to know - but in his past experience, history buff was not one of them. Good thing too, considering he dropped out of school a few years back his knowledge of history stood on shaky legs... when it came to things that actually happened.
But when it came to Arthur...

"Oh, he knows" he grinned as they came to a halt "Sir Gawain, First Prince of Orkney, son of King Lot, at your service, my lady."

>>“Sir Gawain... How do you feel about being kidnapped to dinner?”

Well the instructor seemed to approve of the idea. There are some people who find it utterly outrageous that some couples want to dance at a dance studio. This guy was one of them. Gawain shrugged.

"Sure thing. Told ya, there are plenty of places where ya are allowed to have fun at your own expense without being stared at." he agreed, not caring if the instructor heard them or not. He flashed a grin at him and the constantly snickering other couples before escorting her lady out of the studio. "So, what are ya hungry for?..."

>> "Oh, he knows. Sir Gawain, First Prince of Orkney, son of King Lot, at your service, my lady."

Blink, blink. “Nice. So I get a Prince and a Knight and a magic mirror?” Maxine grinned right on back. “You, Sir, are a keeper.”

Now if only Sir Gawain here could introduce her to his big brother, Sir Legal-to-Cuddle.

>> "Sure thing. Told ya, there are plenty of places where ya are allowed to have fun at your own expense without being stared at. So, what are ya hungry for?..."

“You’re going to have to show me to some of those, brave Sir Knight,” Maxine said, her hand slinking down that arm on her waist to kidnap his own hand again. To the door! “For now: how’s Indian sound? I’m feeling spicy.”

She paused a moment, to flash a grin and a wink at the other couples. Let them snicker. She had a prince. The First Prince of Orkney, thank-you-very-much.

>>“Nice. So I get a Prince and a Knight and a magic mirror? You, Sir, are a keeper.”

That would have sounded really flattering from a lot of ladies, but Gawain was starting to suspect Maxine usually meant the things she said, and that gave the knight a lot of stuff to worry about. The picture of himself tied up in Maxine's closet and snuggled cheerfully to death flashed through his mind, and the smile was not as honest as he wanted it to be.
Sir Gawain swallowed.

>>“For now: how’s Indian sound? I’m feeling spicy.”

"Spicy's good" he nodded as they walked out of the studio hand in hand "Lead the way."

His good mood returned just as fast as it had faded. He had no idea where this impromptu - date? adventure? - was going, but to hell with it, he'll have time to worry about it when there is something to worry about.
It was really not his fault he was that irresistible.