The wind tore through the branches of the forest on the outskirts of Camelot. Standing in a moonlit clearing, two figures conversed furtively. The cloak of one of them was blown back by a particularly violent breeze, revealing the crimson crest of a knight of Camelot. Eyes flashing gold, the other figure surreptitiously slipped him a small bottle procured from under their robes. The knight pressed several gold coins into the sorcerer's hand as payment. Turning on their heel, the sorcerer vanished into the night. Soon after, the red-garbed warrior did the same.

The next morning, before reporting for training, one member of the round table was still in his rooms, getting ready. He rubbed some of Maureen's revitalising potion into his hair, smiling. Sure, conspiring with sorcerers was illegal, but sacrifices had to be made to sustain the glorious condition of his luscious locks.

Executing a perfect hair toss, Gwaine strutted out of his rooms, ready to face another day.