"Staplers," Maxine repeated. "And paperclips." The repetition deserved a deliberate pause in the middle, and one was given. Deliberately. Don't even get her started on pens. That was Clark's ability. "The pens don't turn into bugs, do they?" Maxine asked, her nose crinkling up. If they did... Ugh. She was switching to pencils, from here on out.

As to her future job...

A nosy reporter. One that always got into trouble, for being where she shouldn't be. Probably had to get rescued, too, because her powers were lame. As evidenced by the tentacles that where now dragging themselves aimlessly over the sheets with the shoe stuck on their top, like some kind of nightmare hermit crab.

In short, she was Lois Lane, guest starring in Little Pet Shop of Horrors.

He'd better be lying. He'd better be.

An even more mortifying thought hit her mind. The girl eyed the man in her room—the man sitting on her bed with no compunctions, who'd come to visit her before she'd even been awake, and who'd gotten into 'her' apartment without her letting him in.

"Are we dating?" The vile word rolled off her tongue, scathing hot.

>>"Staplers. And paperclips. The pens don't turn into bugs, do they?"

"Nope, they don't."

Thank God.
Nope, she was not convinced. Those were dangerous eyes for a... little girl.

She watched her glance around, looking for solutions in the strange apartment.
The look that concluded the search made Gawain cringe.

>>"Are we dating?"

"Hell no." he answered promptly, then made a face "Um, I mean... no we are not. We are just friends. I save you a couple of times, and... well, you helped me too."

And we ruined Sleeping Beauty together...

Good. He clearly didn't want to date her just a much as she didn't want to date him. She'd already woken up in a strange place with a strange man with tentacles on her face. The only thing that could have made this worse was if she'd been dating the man. Not that he wasn't cute, in an underfed stray puppy that needed its shots kind of way, but that was so not her type. If she had a type. Which she didn't, because she wasn't going to date until she was out of college (or at least out of high school), because boys were—

Wait.

"Why 'hell no'?" The girl said, drawing herself up. Her shirt started slipping off her shoulder; she reached a hand up to tug it back into place, her green eyes flashing. "And you shouldn't swear in front of children. It's rude it and it sets a bad example." And why hell no? Under her fingers, the shirt strap was smooth and lacey.

Smooth and... lacey?

Maxine finally took the time to down look at herself.

"What the hell am I wearing?" The preteen eloquently asked.

Already, the man was corrupting her.

>>"Why 'hell no'? And you shouldn't swear in front of children. It's rude it and it sets a bad example."

Gawain stared. The girl was... Maxine indeed. Turning slightly pink in the cheeks he wrinkled his nose.

"Sorry?"

He just could not think of Maxine as a child. The best he could do was thinking of her as a miniature death threat. Or one of those creepy demon children in horror movies...

And now she was exploring her clothing. Gawain turned even more red.

>>"What the hell am I wearing?"

"Um... a grown-up... thing?"

All. Kinds. Of. Wrong.

"We need to get you back to your own time. Now."

The man wasn't the only one turning red. Red wasn't a good look on a redhead: it only made matters worse. Especially her freckles: they stood out in horrid brown pin-point blotches, all over her cheeks and across her nose.

"No," the twelve year old said, "you need to get out, and I need to find real clothes." The rest could come later, because... because smooth. And lacey. And red. "Out." The girl said, pointing one hand towards the bedroom door as she wrapped the other over her chest. "Out out out!"

Somewhere in the living room, and cell phone was ringing loudly to the tune of Once Upon a Dream.

>>"No, you need to get out, and I need to find real clothes. Out. Out out out!"

Gawain could not argue with that. Standing up from the bed he backed up to the bedroom door in a hurry.

"Umm... I think you can find clothes in there" he said, pointing towards the closet before he ducked out of the room and closed the door.

Hell hath no fury like Maxine in jailbait edition.

Something was playing music in the living room. Just to distract his thoughts from his imminent death, Gawain tried to locate the source... and found Maxine's cellphone.

"Dammit" he muttered, staring at the tiny screen for a long moment, weighing his options. If it was important, Maxine would definitely want to take it... except, she couldn't.

With a sigh, Gawain picked up the phone.

"Um, hello, this is Maxine's phone. Can I help you?"

Of course she would find clothes in there: it was a closet. The girl kept glaring until the man was out, and the door was shut behind him. Only then did she relax. She was alone... except for the clip tentacles still dragging their way around the bed.

Maxine edged away, and slid off to the floor.

That door really was closed, right? Right.

She went to the window first, her bare toes sinking into the carpet as she stood on tip-toe to look out. Not much of a view; a brick wall about eight feet away, rusty escape stair a little closer, and the hint of a busy street at the edge of her view. If she opened the window, she could probably lean out and see more—but it was painted shut. Of course it was.

Nice place she had here.

The closet was even worse. Who dressed like this? It was like some pretty girl had come into her wardrobe and littered it with look at me and a fine dusting of desperation. That needed a higher neckline, that needed about five more inches on the bottom, and that... that just needed to go away. She finally ended up pulling on a black dress. It fell just below her knees, and was comfortably loose: what did that say about how it fit grown-up her? At least there was one area where her fashion-deprived future-self had certainly grown. She tactfully dug up a purple cardigan and buttoned it up, face flushing. Well. At least that was something to look forward to.

Even if her job was stupid, her apartment was cheap, her clothes made her look cheap, and the boys in her life said 'hell no.'

...That wasn't really what her future was like, was it? No way.

The twelve year old walked to the bedroom door, and tugged it open.

"You still haven't told me your name," she called out, walking down the short hall towards the living room.

Meanwhile, the voice on the phone was snarky. It came with the business.

"Hello, Maxine's phone. So nice of you to finally pick up. Put Maxine on. Now."

>>"Hello, Maxine's phone. So nice of you to finally pick up. Put Maxine on. Now."

Gawain mouthed a silent curse.

"I am sorry, Maxine is currently unavailable. She is having a... medical situation. If you have a message for her I can make sure she receives it as soon as possible."

I turned into the answering machine from Maxine hell.

>>"You still haven't told me your name,"

Turning around, wincing at the loud child voice Gawain reached out and put a hand on Maxine's mouth. He even shook his head, signaling her not to talk.

Yeah. Like that would ever work...

"Medical situation," the voice on the other end drawled, "right. Well, Doctor, you can tell her that—"

"Mphm!" The girl protested, squirming away from the hand. The man—who still hadn't told her his name—had no idea how close he'd come to getting a hand full of perfect white teeth. If he tried that again, though, he might figure it out. Her green eyes flashed.

"That's for me, isn't it?" She said, reaching her hands out in a clear give it to me I am a mature person capable of handling my own calls give it give it give it gesture.

"Sounds very serious," the voice on the phone snipped.

>>"Medical situation, right. Well, Doctor, you can tell her that—"

This looked - sounded - worse than Gawain imagined. A strange male picking up a woman's phone claiming she cannot answer right now... ugh. Mind in the gutter. He could not even blame the person on the other end of the line.

Maxine, however, definitely could. Blame. Everyone.

>>"That's for me, isn't it?"

"No it's not it's for Maxine." he growled at the girl. Hoping she would get the clue.

>>"Sounds very serious,"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. There is a bit of a... family emergency around here. We are all worried about Maxine. I will get her to call you back as soon as she can, I know she hates missing calls. Is there something I should tell her when she wakes up?"

Because. She was clearly in a coma. With little sassy cousing running around her apartment while a helpful brother-in-law handled the phone calls. Yes. That was the only acceptable explanation, mister.

Maxine was not amused.

This was her apartment, and that was her phone. That was her phone call that he was messing up. Medical emergency? Family emergency? First off, if he was going to lie, he should have stuck to the first one. Never change your story: any seventh grader could have told him that. Second, don't pick something that leads to more questions. Don't say 'medical emergency': say 'puking violently in the bathroom, can I take a message?' That's what she'd done for her brother's date, and the older girl on the phone had definitely not wanted more details. Even if this call was for Maxine, the twelve year old was sure that she could have handled it better. Plus, everyone believed little girls.

She looked up until she was meeting his eyes, and then she enunciated very clearly. Not loudly, not so that the person calling her could hear, but very very clearly.

"If you don't give me the phone right now," she said, "I'll scream." She would scream so loud that at least three neighbors would call the cops, and then he could explain what he was doing in a run down apartment with a twelve year old who didn't know where she was. Or, he could hand over her phone.

This was a girl used to making good on her threats. Let there be no doubt about that.

>>"If you don't give me the phone right now. I'll scream."

The male voice on the other end of the line was explaining something about work, but Gawain was promptly distracted by the little girl's threats. She was still Maxine, even if she was a chibi version, he had no doubt she could be dangerous. Very. He also had no doubt that she would indeed scream. And it would be loud. A kindapping was not his plan of the day either.

"Fine." he answered, mimicking her overly enunciated style "Do not blame me."

He handed over the phone and looked around to make sure Rex was not about to ambush him. A girl screaming was bad enough, no one needed a guy to scream...

He might or might not have a name, but he at least had some brains. The redhead took the phone, and made a show of turning around for some privacy on her call.

"Sorry," she said, in her most adult voice. The one she used when arguing the virtues of getting a computer for her room, not just the family room. "There's a man in my apartment being a jerk."

"Tell me something new," the voice on the other end said. Before she could process that, it went on: "We need you down at the station an hour ago. As in, right now. There's a live segment in it for you if you make it in the half hour. This chibi-thing, the de-ageing, the midget kiddies, whatever you want to call it—you know what's going on, right?"

"...Other people are suddenly younger, t--?"

"Of course you do. Why do I even bother to ask. You catch a cold, Rawls? You sound a little off."

"No—"

"Good. Now get down here."

The man on the other end hung up. Maxine resolved right then and there to be the sort of woman who hung up before the other guy had the satisfaction. She turned back to the boy in her apartment, and lifted her chin importantly.

"I," she said, "need to get to work. Take me there."

She had to do a report on herself. Live. Maybe being a reporter was a little cool, after all.

>>"Sorry. There's a man in my apartment being a jerk."

"Wh... hey!" Gawain protested, mouth hanging open. He was not going to be manhandled by a thirteen-year-old girl!...
... He was.

Also, whatever would the guy do when he found out the jerk was in the room with a thirteen-year-old?!

>>>>"...Other people are suddenly younger, t--? No—"

Oh. Now that was interesting. Gawain was glad that did not happen to him. Being thirteen again... Gah. Better off dead.
Maxine hung up.

>>"I need to get to work. Take me there."

"Wh... hell no!" he blinked, shaking his head "Hell. No. What am I supposed to do, show up and tell them ya're suddenly a minor? Do you even remember where you work? Or what ya're supposed to do?... I'm taking you to the school. Maybe Doc knows how to age you back, because I sure don't."

He asked some good questions.

"Just a second," the girl said, slipping past her nameless houseguest as her eyes landed on something that held all the answers. She plucked the pink Coach handbag off the end table, and neatly upended it over the couch.

A lipstick case, plastic and red. A little camera, digital, eight megapixels (they made them with that many now?) A can of... pepper spray? Well, at least her older self knew what kind of neighborhood she lived in. A ziplock bag of paperclips that were... moving. She delicately dropped that on the cushion, before moving on to the good stuff: her wallet. Driver's license, check. The girl paused a moment, giving her thumb-sized adult self a critical eye. She wasn't... too ugly. Which was something, she guessed, given that this was a DMV photo. Still, what had she been thinking, wearing that shirt with that jacket?

She tossed the license aside, and kept digging. Ooo, credit cards. And bingo: employee ID.

"I work at Wolf News," she answered him, straightening back up. "I'm a reporter." He'd said so himself. "And I need to be there an hour ago. It's not like they don't know about people suddenly becoming younger."

This guy needed to get his priorities straight. Healing or time travel or whatever later: being on live TV now.