Xavier, Those Bunny Ears Are Not an Alibi

The heroine goes into Fluffy Trap expecting to embarrass Xavier with a bunny butler outfit. I admire the confidence. I question whether she has spent enough time considering who she's trying to embarrass, because this is a man who brings a device that makes broken bone noises to their outing. He has packed equipment for being a nuisance. We should perhaps adjust the plan.

That little prank is my first complaint, incidentally. Pretending a tap on the shoulder has injured you is a rotten way to discover that somebody cares. I would be relieved, then cross, then very interested in confiscating the noise machine. He can have it back when he learns a less alarming hobby.

But it makes the rest of her scheme much funnier. She isn't leading some bewildered innocent towards his first encounter with mischief. She is trying to get one over on somebody who arrived prepared. The bunny ears have a difficult afternoon ahead of them.

I like Xavier best here when the sweetness has room for calculation. He can look gentle and still know exactly how to be difficult. Those qualities fit together very comfortably in my imagination. In fact, the gentle appearance makes the difficulty more entertaining, because I can see how you might begin a conversation expecting cooperation and finish it wondering when you lost control of the subject.

The outfit does not help the heroine's concentration. A white shirt and fitted black vest are apparently enough to create problems before the props have even begun their work. Understandable. I refuse to judge a plan for suffering a small delay while its author appreciates the tailoring.

I would, however, advise against mistaking looking away for a tactical recovery. You still have to look back eventually. The vest will be there.

The plan is going suspiciously well.

What delights me about the bunny ears is that he takes the pair from her head and asks her to put them on him. She has been trying to steer him towards this choice, and suddenly he supplies the cooperation himself. That ought to feel like victory. Instead, it gives me the distinct pleasure of watching a person get precisely what she wanted and become suspicious about how easy it was.

An excellent little predicament. You cannot reasonably complain that your scheme is going too well, but you can begin to suspect that the other person has read ahead.

I do wish the tail exchange had kept the same spirit. She pushes after he says he'd rather not wear it. I find the willing participation much more appealing than treating a refusal as something the outfit has somehow cancelled. Let him choose his own ridiculous accessory. The scene has plenty of flirtation available without that bit of pressure.

Because once he starts enjoying the role, there is really no shortage. He offers himself as the final present. That is a fairly substantial development for someone she hoped would be awkward about dressing up. She wanted an embarrassing photograph. He has made himself part of the gift arrangement, and I am afraid the original project has expanded.

My weakness here is his willingness to stay silly while flirting. I don't need him to shed the bunny ears before he's allowed to be attractive. Quite the opposite. Taking the ridiculous premise seriously enough to play with it feels much more confident than standing apart and making sure everyone knows you're too dignified to participate.

Imagine arranging a costume photograph with somebody who spends the entire session demonstrating that he is above costume photographs. You would have paid money to document his reluctance. At least give me one picture in which both of us appear to have attended voluntarily. I want evidence of a good afternoon, not a commemorative record of negotiations.

He could see her through the door.

The ending is what makes Xavier's participation especially lovely to me. She discovers that some of her later attempts to startle him were visible through the door from his side. He has been letting her enjoy her successes. Then the photo situation gives away how much he knew about her plan in advance.

Oh, she was permitted to win. That's worse. That's sweeter. I would need a moment to decide which feeling deserved priority.

There is a generosity in allowing somebody a harmless triumph when you could spoil it. I like that he doesn't need to prove his cleverness at the first available opportunity. Letting her enjoy herself is a more appealing use of that cleverness, even if discovering it would make me determined to become considerably harder to catch next time.

And she isn't foolish for enjoying the game. They both want an excuse to keep playing. Her elaborate little setup gives him somewhere to put his affection, and his cooperation gives her more than the photograph she set out to collect.

I would keep the pictures. Absolutely. I would also retire any claim that the bunny ears mean he can be trusted to behave. They are decorative, and he is having far too much fun.