Maxwell is only average at playing innocent. Pretending they don't know what he wants to do. Pretending he doesn't know what they're also about doing. Maxwell isn't ready for sex, for the pure practicality of how much work this costume was to put on. But they picked a half-face mask for a reason. Maybe it's the Disney Princess in them. And how much kissing was both enjoyable, and absent from their life.

Maxwell swings to walk backwards in front of their frog prince, hands still connected. The words come out even and mildly curious. But the smirk on their lip more than makes up for what the tone didn't carry. "What about me is so distracting? What exactly are we going to be doing where an interruption would be so bad?"

They can hold this game of chicken for a few beats, to look him in the eye, see how he reacts to the teasing. Glancing around to find a space that feels hidden enough. Before slipping back to his side and letting him lead them to whatever adventure he had working in his head. Which Maxwell carried a similar intention.