friend_i_hope | OOM: Meeting Alice

Entry tags:

OOM: Meeting Alice

He's never liked Ratty. And it's not just the smell. You live in Wonderland long enough you get a sense of who can and can't be trusted. And Ratty's got that stink about him too. That stink that says you should guard your teas and loved ones around him because it'd take about a drop of Happiness for him to turn you over to the Suits.

Fortunately, Hatter's got more than a drop, and Ratty's story about an Oyster named Alice...

Well, he may not have mastered basic hygiene, but he's smart enough not to offer something he can't deliver.

(Hatter's perfectly aware that it can't be the Alice of Legend, but the coincidence is too much to ignore all the same.)

He tells Ratty to bring her in and quietly sips his tea while he waits.

His chair is faced away from the door when they enter, but he can still smell Ratty.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Wow," Hatter says, glancing first at Ratty and then back at her. "Really?" He circles her slowly as Ratty nods his head enthusiastically.

He doesn't much like the twitchiness either.

"Ooooh." He laughs as he comes back around to Ratty, grinning at him for just a second before making a face. Turning back to Alice, he slings an arm around Ratty's shoulder.

"Ratty here thinks you're Alice. Of Legend.

Alice tracks him with her eyes as far as she can without turning around, and picks him back up again when she can see him again.

She's not sure which she doesn't like worse. The twitchiness or the smell, either way, she's secretly glad that his olfactory essence isn't proving to be typical of Wonderlandians.

"Who?" she asks. This being confused and in the dark thing, she's not loving.

Hatter pulls his arm away from Ratty then, making a little face, knowing he's going to have that ... lingering eau d'Ratty about him for a while now.

"The last, um..." He looks at his hand and brushes away a bit of...something he doesn't want to think about. "The last time a girl called Alice came here from your world," he starts, circling back around her, "she brought down the whole House of Cards, oh yeah."

Personal space? He cares not for such things.

"Made quite an impression. Although it was a hundred and fifty years ago," he adds, looking at Ratty again. "It can't be the same girl. Oysters don't even live that long."

Now that was entirely his own fault. No one made him put his arm around Ratty.

Alice's eyes continue to follow him, knowing out of the pair of men, Hatter's most likely the more dangerous of the two, even if he does smell a lot better.

Though, the personal space issue in this place bothers her to no end. When will these people learn it's a five foot bubble?

"I still want a good price," Ratty says with a bit of a...rat-like look.

This is about when she has to speak up. "What a minute, I am not for sale!"

He doesn't even look at her, just holds a finger up for her to be quiet. Turning away from Ratty, he gives her a look like 'can you believe this joker?' before heading back across his office. He doesn't have to look to know Ratty's following him, and he calls back, "Not on the grass."

There's a row of bottles on a shelf at the back and first he picks up a blue one. Serenity. Nice and calm. Looking back at Ratty, though, he changes his mind, picking up the pink one on the left instead.

"Here we are," he says as he starts back to the two of them, smiling at Ratty, displaying the bottle between his hands as he steps past his hat stand, his rack of (just in case) jackets. "Mmm. Pink nectar," he says, sounding for all the world like an old-timey snake oil salesman. "Filled with the thrill of human excitement. Fifty Oysters were drained of every last drop of hullabaloo, so that you, Ratty, can...taste what it feels like to win, just once."

Ratty's eyes gleam with greed, and he reaches for the bottle, but Hatter pulls it back out of his reach. "Warning," he says, reeling off his disclaimer. "Don't take it on an empty stomach and only one tiny little drop at a time, otherwise the experience might burst your shriveled up little heart. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Go."

And Ratty snatches up the bottle and leaves.

Hatter sniffs his fingers and makes a face. "He really smells," he says to Alice.

She watches this whole interaction silently, curiously. It's hard to make sense out of anything, really, right now. Everything is so damned confusing. It's like she's watching the world go by without knowing how to participate in it. Though, she can't say she's sorry to see Ratty scurry away.

"Oysters were drained? What do you mean, drained?" she asks, seriously. Incredulity aside, for right now. She wants to know. Wants to know just how far in over her head she actually is. Not that she hasn't figured out it's pretty bloody far.

Hatter just looks at her for a moment. Probably, it's not a good idea to tell her exactly what happens to the Oysters in the Casino, so he just...doesn't.

"Ratty tells me you're looking for someone," he says instead, turning away from her, moving back to his desk.

"His name is Jack Chase," she says, moving forward a little, behind him. "He was taken by a man with a white rabbit on his lapel."

She stands, facing his back, on the grass, hands cupped, and waiting for a reaction.

Hatter sits and picks up his tea, crossing his legs. He pauses at her words though, the glass halfway to his mouth.

"I see," he says after too long a pause to be incidental. "Hm." He does sip his tea, though.

Tea-sipping means everything's all right now, doesn't it?

He sets the cup down again before speaking. "The White Rabbit is an organization controlled by the Suits. They travel back and forth through the Looking Glass and...vanish people from your world to ours."

Look. Sipping his tea again. Nothing to worry about here.

"Why?" she asks, like it's the most obvious question ever. She can tell there's something huge he's not telling her and that tea is doing nothing but make the point all the more clear that she's in the dark. It's not reassuring.

Perhaps it's not reassuring to her because she's American. If he were sipping coffee, maybe that would have settled her nerves better.

"To use," Hatter says, like this should be obvious as well. "In the Casino."

Yet more tea-sipping.

"Use?" she asks, eyebrows raising quite a bit. This is not good. People being used in a casino? What is wrong with this place, really. And why won't he just put down the damned tea?

Oh, he will. Right after he spits his last mouthful back into the cup.

"Did I say 'use'? I...slip of the tongue." He stands, looking as unconcerned as possible. "They're fine. Y'know they keep 'em...alive. And...moderately happy."

Which is about as good as he can say, really.

She doesn't comment much on the treatment, or ask any questions outside of the most pertinent one.

"How do I get to this Casino?" she asks, frowning slightly, like she's already contemplating running in there and busting him out.

"That's the thing," he says, smiling like it's going to be the easiest thing in the world.

And then the smile drops. "You don't." He shakes his head. "Way too dangerous."

Something so simple, so elemental. Any child in Wonderland would know that already.

"But," he continues, moving toward her again. "I know some people who...know some...well, other people," he laughs a little, stopping well inside her personal bubble again. "If you know what I mean. It's one of the privileges of..." and here he leans in, right in her face, "running a teashoP." The 'p' in shop pops loudly.

Drama is everything sometimes.

Well, she's not a child from Wonderland. She's an Oyster with no clue what's going on outside of she wants her boyfriend back and to get the hell out of dodge.

And out of the way of people that get way too close, and pop their 'p's very loudly in her face. She jumps and blinks a little at that.

He smiles at her reaction, and when she doesn't smile back, he steps away a bit.

"Lighten up."

He holds up a finger to her again, indicating he's about to show her something wonderful, and jogs over to his little glass wardrobe, pulling it open with a grin over his shoulder at her. "Da na!"

"You," he pulls a purple coat off a hanger and holds it up, "should wear this. It'll cover the Glow," he says as he brings it to her, gesturing to the mark on her arm, "and stop you catching a cold."

"I have a little money, but I understand you don't use that here," she says, not reaching out to take the coat just yet. She just looks at him, starting to get curious again.

"Pieces of paper?" He smiles. What in Wonderland are the Oysters thinking with those? "Pointless."

He moves behind her then, to help her on with the coat.

She doesn't turn, not quite yet. "Then why would you help me?" she asks. She doesn't understand. Hasn't pinned down his motives yet. And she wants to.

Because no, she doesn't trust him yet.

There goes that personal bubble again, as he steps right up behind her.

"Do I need a reason to help a pretty girl in a...very wet dress?"

And when she does turn to face him, her expression makes him take a step back. "Oh. I see. You don't trust me." The look on his face is not quite angry, but it's definitely annoyed. "Fine."

And the coat gets tossed down onto the arm of a nearby chair.

"I am genuinely hurt. Do you know why they call me Hatter?"

Her eyes track his movements as he tosses the coat down and looks back up at him at his question, glancing from his face to his hat and then back again.

"Because you wear a hat?" she ventures a guess.

He pauses, looking to the side. That's...a very good reason, actually. Why hasn't he thought of that before?

"No," he answers eventually, circling back around her. "Because I'm always there when they pass the hat. So to speak."

He heads to the back of his office again, stopping to point a finger right in her face. "Philanthropy. Generosity. I mean, you can call it what you will." He stops behind his big, white chair and turns to face her. "It's who I am, and right now? Lookin' at you there? There's nothing I want more than to...help you find..."

He gestures dramatically with both hands.

This would be a lot more effective if he could remember the name of the guy they're meant to be looking for...

"Jack," she supplies, for his very dramatic show. He's got a flare for the dramatic, that's for damn sure.

And he's also quite the talker. Excuse us while we remain skeptical of this Hatter and his philanthropy.

"Jack!" Hatter says, like it had just slipped his mind for a second.

The dramatic gesturing continues.

"And return you both to your charming world of children's stories."

He doesn't look so much 'sincere' as 'blase'.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject