Max woke up to discover three things: his left arm was asleep, his endless bag had somehow collected morning dew (categorized automatically under "Potentially Magical Liquids"), and Lyra had fallen asleep using his shoulder as a pillow. The third discovery was by far the most panic-inducing.
"Okay," he whispered to himself, trying not to move. "Let's reconstruct the timeline. We were discussing crystal properties, then Scene Cut activated, then..." He glanced down at Lyra's peaceful face, silver hair still adorned with those mysteriously acquired flowers. "...then this happened."
```
Missing Time Analysis:
- Pre-Skip: Standing, discussing demons
- Post-Skip: By stream, apparently romantic
- Current Status: Campsite, definitely romantic
- Understanding of Situation: Minimal
- Panic Level: Optimal
```
Lyra stirred, and Max immediately pretended to be extremely interested in a nearby rock. It was, admittedly, an interesting rock—sort of speckled with what might have been mica—but he was mostly using it as an excuse to look anywhere else.
"You know," Lyra's voice came, tinged with amusement, "most people don't immediately start examining minerals upon waking up."
"Most people don't have an organized system for categorizing minerals by their theoretical magical properties," Max replied automatically, then winced. "I mean, good morning?"
She sat up, stretching in a way that made the morning sunlight seem to dance around her. Max added "possibly controls ambient lighting" to his mental list of things to figure out about her.
"So," she said, picking a flower from her hair and examining it, "are we going to talk about how you keep accidentally skipping through important moments, or should I pretend not to notice when you get that glazed look and suddenly become inexplicably charming?"
Max dropped his rock. "I become what?"
"Charming. In an endearingly chaotic way." She smiled. "Though I have to admit, your normal self is pretty charming too, in a 'this person might actually have forty-two different types of dirt categorized by mystical properties' kind of way."
"Forty-three now," Max corrected, reaching for his endless bag. "I found this fascinating sample while we were..." He paused. "Actually, when did I find this? And why is it slightly pink?"
Lyra's laugh echoed through the trees. "That would be during your impressive speech about how certain minerals reflect the beauty of... what was it again? Oh yes, 'the ethereal glow of elven magic, which is completely unrelated to how pretty your eyes are when you cast spells, this is strictly scientific observation.'"
Max buried his face in his hands. "I said that? Out loud? To you?"
"Very eloquently, I might add. Right before you tripped over nothing and fell into the stream trying to grab that glowing moss. Which, by the way, you insisted would look perfect in a magical resonance experiment, but I'm pretty sure you just wanted an excuse to show off by swimming after it."
"I can't swim," Max mumbled through his hands.
"Yes, we discovered that rather dramatically. Hence why we're both still slightly damp." She poked his shoulder. "Though your attempt to play it cool by claiming you were 'testing the buoyancy properties of different rock types' was quite creative."
Max peeked through his fingers. "Please tell me I didn't try to collect samples while drowning."
"Only three or four. Very restrained, by your standards."
He groaned and flopped back onto the ground, staring up at the canopy. "So my Scene Cut ability basically turned me into a disaster with good intentions?"
"More like it removed your filter and amplified your... unique charm." Lyra lay down beside him, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. "Though I have to say, watching you try to classify the magical properties of water while mostly underwater was highly entertaining."
"At least tell me I didn't try to add the stream to my collection."
Her silence was telling.
"Oh no."
"Let's just say your endless bag now has a section labeled 'Particularly Promising Water Samples' and leave it at that."
Max wanted to disappear into his endless bag, preferably somewhere between his rock collection and his emergency dirt samples. But then Lyra did something unexpected—she reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his face, her touch lingering just long enough to make his heart do that complicated thing again.
"You know," she said softly, "most people try to impress me with grand magical gestures or ancient elven poetry. No one's ever tried to woo me with a detailed explanation of dirt classification systems before."
"That's because most people don't appreciate the magical potential of properly categorized soil samples," Max replied without thinking, then immediately wished his Scene Cut would activate and save him from himself.
But Lyra just smiled that radiant smile that made the forest seem brighter. "Exactly. Most people don't have your... perspective."
Before Max could respond—probably with something about rocks—a distant explosion shook the trees. Both of them jumped to their feet, combat instincts taking over.
"That sounded like—" Lyra began.
"Demons," Max finished, already reaching into his endless bag. "Want to help me test some theories about crystal resonance and magical dirt combinations?"
She drew her sword, eyes sparkling with that dangerous mischief he was starting to adore. "Only if you promise not to try swimming after any more glowing moss."
"No promises. Some of those moss samples showed real potential. Besides," he added, pulling out his combat-ready collection of crystals and premium dirt, "I have it on good authority that I'm quite charming when I'm making a fool of myself."
As they moved toward the sound of combat, Max couldn't help but smile. He might not remember everything that his Scene Cut had skipped, but he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, his chaos was exactly what he was supposed to be.
Though he really did need to figure out how he'd managed to collect stream water in his endless bag. That could be useful.
Probably.