friend_i_hope | OOM: Meeting Alice

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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?"

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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'.

It's probably a combination of the over-dramatic hand gesturing and the blase look on his fact that brings the next words out of her mouth.

"I don't believe you," she says, never taking her eyes off him.

Why does no one ever trust him?

"I know what you're thinking," he says, moving toward her. "If I'm the frying pan, then that out there?" He gestures out to the City, to the Casino. "Is the fire."

Points like this should always be made as close to in the other person's face as possible.

"I'll be square with you. I know people who like to help your kind. And if...every once in a while, I scratch their back..." He trails off, giving her a meaningful look, figuring she's smart enough to finish that on her own.

Oh, yes, he does love to get in people's faces.

"...they'll scratch yours," she finishes as she figures he expected her to.

This still doesn't help much in the way of trusting him or understanding what's going on, but...at least that much is honest. He's a mercenary at heart, it seems.

Well, it certainly helps if people see him that way.

"Precisely." He smiles again, that 'you can trust me, I'm a good guy' smile. "Lotta scratchin'."

And then, really, all he can do is wait for her to make up her mind whether or not to trust him.

No, it has nothing to do if she's made her mind up to trust him, but the fact that she realizes she's got no other options.

She takes the jacket off the arm of the couch, and pulls it on, and steels her resolve, and walks toward him. She'll follow him, even if she doesn't trust him.

He turns when she goes for the jacket, figuring that's as good a sign as any that's she's coming with him, and heads for a door at the back of his office.

"Do try to keep up," he says as he opens it for her and waits for her to come through.

She blinks a little, when she can see outside the door, and nods slowly, walking silently to the door, tugging the jacket a little straighter.

Oh, great. It's a ladder. Fantastic.

Hatter heads down the latter easily, stopping at the bottom to wait for her.

She's taking her sweet time, though, so he reaches up to assist her, hands at her waist as he helps her to the ground.

Well, to the ledge anyway.

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