[It happens one day on his walk home from the studio. He's been practicing a new piece with his dance group there, and they've finally hit the timing just right, so Maxxie's on a bit of a high as he cuts through a back street in the late afternoon. Even the main streets are quiet at this time of day - everyone's in having dinner and Maxxie knows that when he walks through the door his mother will be setting something on the table and his father will be chastising him for being late again, but that's routine. That's what Maxxie likes. Which is why he's acutely aware when he turns a corner and something feels off.]

[At first, he turns to make sure no one is following him. There's no one there, not even the scrape of someone's shoes, and the cars have fallen silent. He turns back around and the world is shifting, getting blurry at the edges.]

What the fuck?

[He can feel his heart pounding away in his chest, and his instincts tell him to run so he does, but the world only gets farther away. He stops, turning in circles and shouting:]

The fuck's going on here?

[Maxxie's good at passing the time on the bus. When he's not napping, he usually has his head ducked, scribbling away in a little notebook. It's pieces of lyrics - he writes them down as they come to him - surrounded by doodles of this or that. Sometimes the drawings threaten to overtake the lines he's been trying to piece together into verses, but he lets them weave in and out. It's a process, and it works for him.]

[That's when the bus is quiet. When there's even a murmur of activity, Maxxie's involved. He's an extrovert, he gets energy from shooting the shit with his bandmates and playing dumb loud card games or trying to build a structure of plastic cutlery only to have all of it fall down at the next bend in the road. He tries not to be too loud, lest the Managers get annoyed, but he's naturally obnoxious. And right now he's just a little wired, as he is wont to do the day after a show - the adrenaline lasts almost 24 hours for him. He's throwing a ball in the air over and over again, swinging his legs over the arm of a couch.]

I think we should change up the set, yeah? Seems like there's too much slow stuff right in the middle - gotta get the crowd pumped up again.