As always, big thanks to my great editor, Lies!

The passing of Duke Fou Medecin was felt by the city as more troublesome than tragic . The old man hadn't made a pleasant impact during his time, being a well known bigot against animal species which wasn't a welcome train of thought when the fur and feathers outnumbered humans ten to one. He had only begun to treat them with more tolerance when his age was beginning to catch up with him and he needed help getting around. The report of his death came as a surprise first, and then to many, relief. He had died of a heart attack, which wasn't too surprising given his age. He had no family, and not even a will to leave behind, so it was the begrudging duty of his servants to lay him to rest.

So what was to become of his mansion and all the treasures he had acquired over his long lifetime? With no heir or close family members to claim it, the police took hold of his assets and held an auction a week after his death. The wealthy arrived in their carriages, dressed more like they were attending a party instead of a somber occasion. Some of the lesser folk had gathered around the mansion to take their guesses at what was happening inside. Daisy and Max were among them, sharing their distaste over the events.

"Even when they're dead, the rich aren't useful." Daisy lamented as she tugged down on her sleeves, the winter chill picking up. "I heard that the money in the auction goes to the other Dukes and the Duchess. Like they need more of it!"

Max kept his hands in his pockets, fingering his birthday present to a special lady. "What a waste. It's just a contest to see who has the biggest wallet. But…" The pause was enough for Daisy to glance over at him, interested. "… I heard the old man had plenty of scientific books and papers collected in his library. I'd give anything to even get a glimpse of those notes." In his youth, Medecin had extended his hand into the scientific community, and even the renowned geniuses Ludwig Von Drake and Gyro Gearloose had asked for his help occasionally. But the older he became, the bitterer he became, and eventually shoved away the only people who shared like minds. "I can't believe this… in one year, we've lost so many brilliant people."

"At least we've got one on our side." Daisy lightly pat Max's arm, trying to earn a smile out of him. "That's why you've got to keep up your work. I know that egghead of yours is going to help us change things. That's the one thing that the wealthy can't control... rich or poor, brilliance can come from anywhere."

Max shifted his arms around, embarrassed that lately he had used his genius to make jewelry instead of anything beneficial to the revolution. In an effort to get the topic off of him, he spoke very quickly, trying to gesture to the mansion without removing his hands from his pocket. "Speaking of what the wealthy can and can't control… any control over Donald?"

The embarrassment bounced back onto Daisy, and she idly picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "I'm… getting there. He's just really strange. But in enough time, I'll get what I need from him." True to her word, Daisy had visited Donald every day. It had started out for only a few minutes per day, but lately it had begun stretching into hours at a time. Aside from arguing over The Scarlet every once in a while – Donald claiming that the Scarlet was doing more harm than good and Daisy protecting what she saw as the love of her life-, Donald was surprisingly good and humble company. It absolutely irritated Daisy how nice he could be, yet she was still sure underneath it all, Donald was as cruel as any other moneygrubber and soon he'd show it to the entire city. "And at the next meeting… I know exactly how to gain back everyone's trust."

Before Max could ask how, someone else called Daisy's name instead. "Hey, Daisy! What're you doing here?" The latest carriage to arrive on the scene had been Donald Duck's, and he walked over with cheer to see his good friend. "I thought this was going to be a really boring day, but I didn't think you'd show up."

Daisy ripped out the thread, trying to be indifferent to his happiness. "Did your Uncle send you over here to collect some worthless piece of furniture?"

"Sorta." He managed a dry laugh at his own expense. "He said he wanted me out of his feathers for a few hours, so he gave me a small allowance and told me to only buy one thing. I'm only allowed to spend one thousand." Donald couldn't imagine wanting anything out of Medecin's collections, but figured he should jump on the one drop of kindness that Scrooge was giving. Then his eyes brightened as an idea came to him. "Say, Daisy, why don't you come in with me? Maybe you can help me pick out something neat!"

"Oh, gee, I'd just love to…" Daisy lied drolly, and laid out a hand to her dog companion. "But my friend and I were just about to…" Not do anything, apparently, as Max was long gone – he had probably made a split for it when Daisy was distracted by Donald. Daisy noted she'd have to give him a good kick to the shin at the next meeting. "… Nevermind."

"Great, come this way!" Donald was so relieved to have some friendly company that he failed to notice Daisy's utter reluctance towards coming inside, as he took her hand and began to lead her in. At the door, he received his number to hold up for when he decided to bid, 88. The living room had been moved around to accommodate for the crowds, seats, and miniature podium that the chief of police, Pete Felin, stood behind. Though some servants of the elite were mixed in with their masters, Daisy managed to stick out and received many disgusted glares of those better than her. She returned the hateful looks, but at the same time felt herself shrinking down from the looks. When Donald found a few empty seats, he showed them to Daisy so she could sit, but noticed her look of discomfort. "… What's the matter?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Daisy muttered, smoothing down her dress as she sat. "I don't belong here." Though her confidence told her she was better than everyone else in the room, it was still easy to feel ugly in an old, tattered dress among rows of elegant women with clothes that had never seen a stain.

"Says who?" Donald sat beside her, easily able to ignore everyone in the room, even someone who was heading right towards their row of seats. "I brought you here. So… I say you belong." He patted her hand once, and then looked toward the auctioneer, missing the chance to see a faint of a smile on Daisy's beak.

"All right, what's up next…" Pete waved his officers around, making them drag the items back and forth in front of the public. Horace was among them, and he was trying to hold up a heavy stack of thick books, and judging by his shaking knees he was in no physical condition to be carrying such a load. Pete took one book off of the top of the pile, though it didn't ease Horace's problem any. "Let's see, uh… Okay, folks, we've got some books here from the Medecin's collection. The, uh…" he squinted to try and make sense of the title. "… Dynamics of… the electric current in order to… Aw, some fancy smarty-pants stuff." He tossed the book back to Horace, who in seconds was now under a pile of dusty old pages.

Daisy's head tilted up as she understood what the title really meant. It must have been the collection Max was talking about only moments before. Donald caught sight of Daisy's interest, and when Pete made the opening bid of one hundred, Donald raised his number. Daisy expected it to be another way to impress her, and so was disturbed at how genuine Donald's bright expression was. He was honestly happy to do this for her, and she ducked her head down, feeling a stirring sensation in her chest. What was with this guy?

"One hundred from Mister Duck!" Pete waved his hammer about, and did a sweep of the room, trying to see if there were any other interested buyers. On the contrary, people were yawning at the idea of such a purchase. "One hundred, do I hear one-fifty? Going once… going twice…"

"One-fifty."

The ducks who had been lost in their romantic display snapped their heads to their direct right, as that's where the bidding voice had come from. Sitting on Daisy's other side was another duck, dressed in a green darker than the dirtiest grass, and although he could have easily been Donald's age, he was a bit more handsome, a bit better dressed, and even his number was higher – 89. "I thought I'd spare you the wrath of your penny-pinching uncle. And if it makes this lovely lady happy, that's quite the bonus." He took Daisy's hand without her permission, giving it a light kiss. "Duke Gladstone Gander. The pleasure is all mine."

"It certainly is." Daisy tugged her hand back, wiping it on her dress.

Donald frowned, and raised his number up again. "Two hundred! And for your information, Duke Gander, my uncle is letting me spend this money, so why don't you sit back and relax?"

Gladstone r raised his number. "Three hundred. And this is quite relaxing, I'll have you know. And even better, the money eventually comes back to me! It's a highlight of being related to royalty." He kept his winning smirk on Daisy, letting an arm rest on the back of her chair. "Almost makes me a prince."

"I know what I'm doing!" Try as Scrooge and Ducksworth had, Donald's temper from the countryside hadn't been tamed, and it took over as Donald waved his number around erratically. "Four hundred!"

"Five hundred." Gladstone chirped in his charming chipper way.

"Six hundred!"

"Seven hundred."

"Eight hundred!"

"Nine hundred."

Pete was having trouble keeping track of the strange battle, and many others in their seat had turned around just to watch the spectacle. Had Daisy not been in this center of this bizarre war, she would have found it hilarious. But she was, and so she didn't, trying to sink lower and lower into her seat. She knew they were in extra trouble when Donald began to jump outside Scrooge's allowed limit.

"Three thousand!"

"Four thousand."

"Five thousand!"

"Six thousand."

Donald's rage reached its breaking point, and he stood on top of his seat, pointing his number at Gladstone and yelling at the top of his lungs. "Nine thousand, nine hundred and… and… and twelve!" If Gladstone dared to top that, very little was going to stop Donald from leaping over and throttling the cocky jerk.

Gladstone rubbed his wrist, sighing quietly. "My wrist is getting sore." Donald's rage was barely a blip on his radar.

Pete quickly seized the movement, slamming his hammer in rapid succession to get the darn deal over with. "Going once and twice and the duck has the books! Just send 'em to McDuck's place already."

Donald pumped his fists up in victory, and then sat down, thumbing his vest in pride. "Why don't we head home, Daisy? I can give you the books there as soon as possible!"

"And then you can tell your uncle how you went over your limit by eight thousand and twelve." Daisy reminded him as she rose from her seat, and to her surprise she found she didn't enjoy the devastated state Donald sank into upon the horrid realization. "But getting out of here does sound like a good idea." Though she had to drag Donald by his arm to get anywhere, as in his horror he had lost the ability to feel his legs.

Gladstone waved her and winked. "I'll see you around, ma cherie."

Daisy found herself holding Donald's arm a little tighter as they left together.

Max didn't mean to abandon Daisy like that, but he figured it was better that than explaining what he had been planning to do that day. He was once again on that familiar path where he had met Roxanne, hoping he could run into her again. As he stressed that hope, he thought back to when he had last seen her, which had been when he met her father and learned about her birthday. Come to think of it, she hadn't said for what reason she was there, or even where she was going. In fact, her father had made her turn right back around from whence she came, and she hadn't protested about having to go somewhere else. So why was she there that day?

And why was she there this day? He stumbled to a halt as he saw her familiar lovely locks resting neatly on her shoulders, and when their eyes locked, any passerby would have noticed that she had started walking much quicker. She was almost out of breath when she reached him, holding the black lace cowl around her neck. "Max! It's so good to see you again!"

"Hey, uh…." His pockets felt ten times heavier now, and his eyes bounced all over to try and find a place that didn't land on her. "I, uh… I actually was hoping to… see you, um…"

"Oh? Really?" She tilted to a side, trying to catch up with his eyes.

"Well… you said your birthday was coming up." He inhaled as deeply as his lungs would allow, wanting to get his embarrassment over with as soon as possible. "So, well, I had some spare stuff back home, so, you see, I got bored, and, well, I figured, maybe…" He clenched the earrings in his pockets, and then pushed his hands out, opening them and refusing to make eye contact with her. "So! So. Sooo."

Roxanne blinked once in confusion, but it wasn't too difficult to make out what was glinting in his dirty gloves. "… Are those… oh! Earrings! And… they're gears! Little gears!" She squealed as she drew her fingers over them, feeling delicate grooves on the brown jewelry. "They're so cute! Did you really make these? For me?"

"If you want them." Max hoped he wasn't smiling as stupidly as he felt he was. Hearing that exuberance in her voice was possibly the greatest sound he had ever heard in young life.

"Max, this is so sweet! Thank you so much!" She held onto his fingers, squeezing them in appreciation, and Max found he could no longer play keep away with his eyes. There was a huge boost in his pride to know something he had made would go on this beauty. "I'd go home and put them on right now… but my dad is home, and if he saw us, he'd throw a fit." She paused, and then scooped the earrings into her hands. "Mind if we go to your place?"

Max's logical side welcomed this idea, as this would be a good way to talk about the revolutionaries in private, and to show her his extensive work in their fight for freedom and equality. Much of that was drowned out by his hormones going WHOO HOO repeatedly."Uh… s-sure. I guess. Follow me." He turned around and managed to strike a victory grin before looking cool and normal again as she came up to his side. "By the way… where were you going?"

Roxanne, bizarrely, was now the one to cast her eyes away, rolling the earrings back and forth in her hands. "Oh… just… out for a walk. I hear cold air can be good for you." Max thought that was the dumbest thing he had ever heard, but then, he never would have guessed that perhaps she and he were more alike than he knew – that, perhaps, she had taken the same path to see him as well. This same path passed by a troubled paperboy with a lot on his mind.

Mickey's thoughts were so troubled that he didn't mind the cold. While many of the city weren't bothered by Medecin's passing, Gyro and Ludwig discussed the matter at length with the hero and found out many suspicious circumstances regarding the man's death. The last one to see Medecin alive was Duke Fantome, as the servants had said that during his visit, he had suddenly rushed out of the room in a panic, declaring something terrible was happening to Medecin. When one butler came into the room to see what the matter was, the old man was already dead. Aside from the servants and Fantome, no one had been allowed to see the body, not even a doctor. Ludwig had argued that a heart attack wasn't something one could automatically know from looking, and you'd only know by a proper autopsy.

Ludwig and Gyro's hidden cameras weren't able to reach inside Medecin's mansion, but they were able to watch Fantome leave, and he appeared fairly stoic about seeing a man die in front of his eyes mere minutes ago. It had also been him who said it was a heart attack, and those around with him had seen little reason to argue about it. Then there was the fact that Ludwig and Gyro had learned about the driver of the carriage that started the Second Bloody Sunday from Medecine's mouth. It had been a fact that Medecine found morbidly amusing sharing with his companions, figuring they'd be too cowardly to ever tell another soul.

But these were all points that a court would dismiss and with nothing to hold together, it only gave the trio a few hunches, bad feelings, and little more to work with. Maybe when he went on patrol tonight, Mickey could try to do some investigation, but for now he had few leads. Had Mickey not seen Minnie's carriage begin to trot up his way, he would have stayed in this troubled mood. She always had a way of flipping his mood around with just her presence, and when her door opened, he picked up the top paper off of this stack, ready to hand it over. But as he saw a second body coming out of the carriage, the paper began to crumple in his hands. What was Mortimer Rodawn doing in her carriage?

"What an auction!" Mortimer guffawed, slapping a hand to the wind as they made their way over. "That old geezer may not have been good for much, but his mansion is going to make a great party room for me and my friends!"

Minnie stepped in front of Mortimer, hoping to avoid another confrontation between Mickey and the rat. "Did you save one for me, Mickey?"

"Don't I always?" Mickey handed it to her, but didn't take his eyes off his rival. "Don't ya have better things ta do, like… anythin' at all?" After his humiliation in front of Minnie the last time they were together, Mickey was dreading every second Mortimer stayed there in their presence. Since he couldn't have either of them guessing his other job, he couldn't show any signs of real strength or intelligence, and would have to let Mortimer win any games they would encounter. Mickey knew it was for the best, but he also felt like he'd rather die than go through Mortimer's victory sneer again.

Mortimer took his own paper off of the stack, drifting through the pages. "The Duchess insisted on coming here after our date."

"It was so very much not a date!" Minnie interjected with lightning speed lips, but still wasn't fast enough to stop Mickey's jaw from dropping. "He just insisted on coming with me to the auction! He's quite insistent on a lot of things." Minnie had only gone to see if there was anything she could buy and donate to the poor, but aside from the books that were lost in the battle of the ducks, there was nothing useful left. As for Mortimer, he seemed to think that barging in on Minnie's carriage and waiting for her outside of her gate constituted as courting, and she was considering getting a lock, maybe even a guard dog, just to keep him away from her morning routine to the newspaper boy.

Mortimer chuckled in the face of blinding indignation from the pair of smaller mice as he tried to find words worthy of his notice. "I don't know how you can stand to be so adorable, Duchess. I'd better act fast before some other man takes notices and snatches you up." It was then he remembered the party at Fantome's place, and how a certain vigilante had stolen Mortimer's dance partner, and his face soured. "Like that… no-good Scarlet chump."

Mickey should have left it alone, but manly pride is a very loud thing. "Think ya got some competition from the guy? Maybe he could snatch her away from ya… wouldn't be too hard."

"He isn't snatching me away! No one is snatching me away!" Minnie's panic was lost on the men as they entered a fight of sheer confidence.

"That guy is a common thief!" Mortimer rolled up his paper and shook it at Mickey as if he was a disobedient dog. "For every robbery he stops, he takes a piece for himself! Why, if I ever saw the guy again, I'd take him to the police! It's up to men like me to protect the Duchess from such scoundrels!"

"Maybe she doesn't wanna be protected! Maybe she likes the guy!" He really should have stopped, he could almost hear Ludwig and Gyro face-palming at this fight, but manly pride is a very, very, very loud thing. "They've already kissed! Her first one, too!"

"She would never do such a thing! He probably forced himself on her and she couldn't defend herself!"

"Oh, she wanted it! Practically tackled the guy down! And it was a real good one! A real sweet one! She's crazy about him, and there's nothin' ya can do about it!"

Minnie didn't know if she wanted to die or kill the men in front of her. She had tried so hard to make sure no one important thought there was any romantic feelings between her and the Scarlet, but from the sound of it, she hadn't done a very good job of it. Let Mortimer think what he wanted, he was an annoyance in every sense of the word. She needed to fix things, and as the argument choked her, she clutched her hair as her thoughts scrambled. How would she reestablish the dearest and deepest friendship she had? "I…. oh… M… M-M-Mickey Mouse, I demand you sleep with me!"

It wasn't until she saw how wide both men's eyes had gotten that she realized she left out a crucial word. "… Over! Sleep over!" She used the awkward silence to her advantage in order to calm herself, smoothing down her dress and fur before speaking again. She was a proper lady, after all, and there had to be images to be maintained about such kinds of people. "We've been friends ever since we were children, but lately we haven't been able to see too much of each other. And lately you've been looking so exhausted, so we should use tonight to get you some proper rest, and to renew our friendship."

"Tonight?" Mickey repeated, uneasily tugging at his shirt collar. "Aw, gee, um… that's real nice of ya, Minnie, but…" But he had a nightly duty to scour the streets in pursuit of criminals, except of course he couldn't say that.

"No buts!" Minnie side-stepped to make sure she stayed in his line vision. "I won't hear any excuses. I want you promptly at my house at eight-o-clock, and not a minute later."

"M-Minnie, I, uh…" How was he supposed to deny her without hurting her feelings? "See, I already got… p-plans! Yeah, plans. I'm planning to do plans…"

"Isn't that a shame." Mortimer wedged himself back into the conversation, using Mickey's head as a hand rest as he leaned over. Mickey clenched his fists over and over, trying to hold back his Scarlet strength to flip Mortimer over and splash him in the fountain's freezing water. "But I'm as free as a bird! How about I take up this guy's space and we start our own friendship? Since he clearly doesn't care about you anymore…"

"I didn't say that!" Mickey tried to move his head away from Mortimer's hand without hurting the taller rat, despite how much he wanted to. "I said I got plans, is all! Planning plans! All… planned out and everythin'!"

"Fine with me." Mortimer straightened up, proud to have, in his own mind, won the argument. "Nothing could be more important than spending time with the duchess, but I guess that's just me. It was eight-o-clock, right my dear?"

Mickey snorted, and waited for Minnie to reject the invitation that wasn't cast. Yet Minnie didn't, and was looking dejected at losing the one she did want to invite. She had lowered her head, hands held together against her violet dress. "… I see." She swallowed hard, and the lump going down in her throat matched the dagger sticking into Mickey's heart. "… I certainly wouldn't want to be a bother to you… so… if you've really got something more important… then I'm sorry." Oh no, she wasn't going to… to cry, was she? She turned her head away, covering her mouth with one lacily gloved hand, and Mickey could spot tiny trembles near her face.

"I'll go I'll go I'll go I'll go I'll go I'll gooo!" Mickey ran out from under Mortimer's hand, causing the taller socialite to fall forward and smack his face into the pavement below. "I'll go, I will, I promise!" He prayed he had prevented her crying, because that was worse than any Bloody Sunday, worse than any robbery, it was the worst thing that could ever possibly happen!

Fortunately it didn't happen, for when Minnie looked back at him and removed her hand from her mouth, she was grinning from ear to ear. "Good! I'll make sure the guest room is extra cleaned up for your arrival." She burst into laughter as Mickey's face went from relief to irritation. "Oh, Mickey, you've always done everything possible to make sure I stopped crying. That's how I always got you to play house with me when we were children. You just never learn."

Mickey crossed his arms, his cheeks puffing into a pout as he remembered past times in his childhood where she had tricked him similarly. All she had to do was give off that little tremble with her mouth covered, and Mickey had come under her command completely, which helped when Minnie wanted to play particularly girly games like house, or make sure he played with her more than the other children on the street. "… Yanno, one of these days, yer gunna cry fer real… and I ain't gunna do a thing about it! No sir."

"Yes you will." Minnie patted his cheek, taking joy in finding the deep colors coming off of it

"… Yes I will." Though Mickey smiled, he was still worried about the trouble he was in concerning his nightly duties. At least Minnie had given him a schedule, so he could try to sneak back to Ludwig and Gyro before then and figure something out. They wouldn't be pleased at all, but Mickey wasn't going to break his word to the duchess.

"Then I'll go get everything ready for tonight. We're going to have such fun!" Feeling a rush of confidence after the small ordeal, she swiftly kissed his cheek fast enough that anyone who blinked would have missed it. Convincing that same person that it happened would also be difficult as she then almost ran for her carriage, bewildered that she had gotten away with such a rash act of affection. As for Mickey, the seconds of a smooch had broken down any leftover misgivings about what he had planned to do.

Minnie managed to make it to her carriage before Mortimer could get up, and happily rode off without him in pursuit of the night's plans. Mortimer, alas, could not take the hint, even when it had been flirting right in front of him. "So… I'll be there at eight, duchess!"

Mickey did a quick check around the scene – no one was paying them any particular attention. So with a whistle, he picked up any papers that had fallen during the confrontation, and in doing so, swept a leg under Mortimer's ankle, causing him to fall backwards into the fountain water. Hearing him splash and sputter was music to Mickey's big ears.

Ludwig and Gyro weren't pleased at all. They had witnessed the invitation on screen, and were mutually shaking their heads in disapproval. "You know," Gyro sighed, "it's as if the more we try to keep them apart, the closer they wind up becoming. Either he can't get it through his head he's not supposed to have emotional connections anymore…"

"Or the duchess has a tighter leash on him than we first thought." Ludwig got out of his chair, walking up and down the singular room in an effort to get blooding flowing through his body, as sitting for so long tended to create aches. "The boy has got a noble heart… he can't bear to hurt her. His kindness is one of the reasons why we picked him." He stopped in front of a line of long tubes, each one holding old versions of the Scarlet outfit, each one fitted for a different body type, lest they lose their current hero. "And we knew that the duchess was very attached to him… you remember what happened on the Second Bloody Sunday."

"But Mickey doesn't." Gyro stayed in his seat, beginning to click on the computer keys underneath him to get different camera angles. "And if he found out the truth about what happened that day, then he'd never let her go. If she ever decides to tell him…"

"Now that, the professor knows, will never happen!" Ludwig nodded twice, feeling power over this matter. "Stubborn people like those kids guess everything about each other. She assumes he knows, but doesn't want to risk anything by outright asking him. That's the trouble with people today! Everyone assumes everything, so no one says anything! Silence isn't golden, it's lead! Heavy lead!"

Gyro didn't bother trying to decipher the metaphor. "But what are we going to do about tonight? If something does happen and the Scarlet isn't there to help people, it's going to really set us back. We need a plan."

Ludwig stroked his lower bill as his mind rattled, but it didn't take long for him to snap his fingers. "I've got it! Gyro, get the chemicals!"

"Ludwig, for the last time, I refuse to help you dye your hair."

"Not those chemicals, the other ones! And I'll have you know that blonde hair is all the range these days."

At seven-o-clock that night, Max unsteadily sat on his dirty old mattress besides Roxanne, awaiting her answer. He had only meant to tell her miniature details about the revolution, and if she was on board, he'd mention his part in it. But as the day went on, he found he couldn't stop talking about the entire matter of the revolution, feeling very strongly about it and wishing to convey every ounce of his emotions to her. Roxanne had been silent the entire time, her expression unreadable as he went in depth about the other members of the group. Now that he was finished, he was on edge as he waited to hear her opinion on it.

Eventually, she inhaled deeply, tucking some hair behind her ears that now held his gears. "… That's… a lot to take in."

It wasn't a rejection, but it wasn't acceptance either. Max was grateful that his father was off doing one of his many odd jobs, yet at the same time he felt he'd praise something to break the constant pauses. "Yeah… but… you understand, right? I… I know we haven't really known each other that long, but I wanted to tell you, and… I trust you. We really need all the help we can get." He took off his cap, sighing as he ran a hand over his head. "But I also understand if you don't want in. It'd be dangerous, and I'm not even sure what Daisy is planning for tonight's meeting. So… whatever you want to do… it's okay. Really."

There was another pause that made Max's insides twist and churn with uncertainty. Then his body went into absolute knots as she stood up, but she wasn't making a move to leave. Instead, she offered her hand down towards him, gracefully smiling. "Well then. We should get going… I don't want to be late for the first time."

For one of the very rare times in his life, Max was as clueless as his father. He blinked at the lovely hand that was dangling over his face.

"Max… I want in."

End of Chapter Eight.