Pseudo-Transparent Smiles

                 If you don’t fight,                     you can’t win!

ℋ — “Ches,” Almost to spite him, a sharply whistling kettle shimmered into being beside him. Hatter pulled a tea cup from his pocket and set it down for the cat. “Cream and sugar.” He murmured, absently patting at his pockets and then sighing as he found the small dishes. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

The feline slowly settled himself, giggling as Wonderland offered him, of all folk, TEA.  He never left.  Not since his soul had drifted here, left to be as it would.  Even in this form he let off small bursts of smoke, the tendrils curling about his ears and dark hair, "It has been quite so long.  Extra cream, if you please~"

ℋ — A small blip in a whirlwind of larger ones. He was off his head, and he knew it. Hadn’t there once been a saying? One of the Alice’s whispered it to him. If you think you are mad, you must not be, for mad people do not have their heads. But where was his head? Perhaps the fae used it in their kicking game. That would make sense of the pain. Sense. Nothing made sense here. Here knew only madness. Here was only the hatter, properly off his head.

"Hello, Hatter."