Officially, the Sandborn Institute and Lady Cassidy’s Academy for Young Ladies did not have mixers. There was nothing the Black Tower wanted to hear from the Pumpkin, and nothing the Pumpkin wanted to say to the Tower.
Unofficially, however, the taverns in the nearby town understood that, magical, mysterious, monk-like, or no, the students of the two schools were still, for the most part, young people from sexually-reproducing species (in that year, almost entirely human and near-human), and, as such, they needed a place to engage in some sort of social activity, or they'd be engaging in all sorts of activities all over the place.
The local "dance nights" were attended by some townies, of course, but the primary attendees, as intended, were the students of the two schools that flanked the town, who, in their unaccustomed finery or their far-more-comfortable robes, glowered uncertainly across the imaginary divide until the music started and a few brave souls ventured forth onto the floor.
It was there, in the detente-space of the well-polished oak, that Audrey and Sage first met, their hands resting awkwardly on each other's shoulders and backs, their eyes not meeting, but not quite looking away.
"So," Sage began, "you're a Pumpkin Seed." In his defense, he was young, and nervous, and this was his first dance.
In Aud's defense, this was not her first dance. Her chin firmed and her eyes sparked. "Rule one."
"Rule one?" Sage repeated nervously. “Rules, already?"
"Rule one," she agreed. "This isn't, whatever comes of this dance, anything to do with the Tower and the Pumpkin. This isn't a Pumpkin Seed and a Tower Weed dancing. This is you, Sage, and me, Audrey, and come what may, this is never about our schools."
Sage nodded slowly. "Rule one," he agreed. "So... you're Audrey?"