(OOM: Ace and River had a bet. There were fried paradoxes on the line (as well as a few geckos). So who better to settle the matter than an
eye-witnessThe front door opens, pale bandaged (and thimbled) fingers curling around the door edge as the one who opened it cautiously peers into the room
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Comments 48
It's hard to surprise this Queen. Congratulations.
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And so far, no one has yelled 'off with his head', which he considers a fantastic turn of events.
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She hasn't decided what exactly to say to him yet. She's still formulating, and wondering what the hell he is.
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What he really needs is a lot of tea. And perhaps a scone.
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There is a small elf like creature looks up at him.
"Hi, there! Is this your first time in Milliways?" he asked, "And I like your hat!"
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The Hatter snatches the hat off of his head and cradles it firmly, glaring at the elf-like creature.
It is his hat. It is a very important hat. Because... it is his. Logic doesn't have to be non-circular to be correct.
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Beside her? A notably, obvious, tea service cart.
It is loaded with all the works.
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You see.
He did leave all of the tea things on the other side of the door, and ever since he was obliged to kill time, it has been tea time, and there's nothing quite as calming as a good cup of tea.
But it is very difficult to ask for one, when the lady in question appears to be asleep.
He finds himself just a few feet away, his fingers working anxiously. Maybe if he asked... it wouldn't matter if she was too asleep to answer? The asking would be sufficient, he's... almost sure.
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This is the only place she can safely close her eyes now.
But habits only last so long, and brushing them, they are opened again.
Which catching sight of someone so close caused Marian to start for second, "Oh, my apologies, did you need something?"
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"Ah, well, it isn't so much a question of needing, though perhaps a question of wanting, or even thinking about, though that isn't nearly so dreadfully urgent - nothing is, you see, not since I was obliged to kill time, onery fellow that he is..."
He may be well set to ramble on forever.
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His neck is turned to a very strange angle.
A painful-looking angle, some might say.
Maybe it is inspired by all the bright colors.
Especially the hair.
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When there was a family, anyway. But still, it is true Hightopp red (though whether that color comes from nature or nuture, the clan never said).
The more colorful gangly figure takes another step into the room, looking both utterly bewildered and rather comfortable in himself all at the same time.
(It's a talent).
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It looks like an icing-ed sheep.
With teeth.
It is not a symbol.
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