#fallingintocuriosity

Tarrant straightened his tie as he made his way to the door, a box of chocolates cradled in the crook of his arm. He'd read twelve romance novels that he'd bought in Upperland to study up on how he ought to propose the second exchange. He would've brought flowers, too, but he couldn't have them jabbering and interrupting he and Alice. Today marked two months since the dirt exchange, and with things between the two of them becoming more and more serious, it seemed that perhaps it was time. After a moment of hesitation, he knocked on the door.

The young man tread carefully behind the girl, following her into a house he didn't recognize. He chewed his lip, his eyes scanning over everything. Awkwardly running a hand through his short hair, he gave up on trying to remember all this. "Alice?" That was the one name that didn't fade, the name of the lovely blonde who had taken him here. "What is this place?"

After the seventh change of clothes, Tarrant felt he finally looked presentable...or at least as presentable as he was going to get. Tugging at his sleeves nervously, he was busying himself tidying up the his little house. The tea was brewed, the table was set, the chair was pulled out for when the guest arrived. Alice. She would be here at any moment, in his own house, sharing a pot of tea with him and quite possibly addressing him by his name and brushing her fingers when they both reached for the sugar and-! The Hatter was cut off by the delicate knock on the door.

In his mind, he was doing an exceptional job. With Alice deep in well-deserved sleep, the Hatter was watching little Tillie all on his own. Granted, she'd been napping, as well, so there wasn't much he could mess up. Now that she was awake, however, he was much more careful. The child had been a little cranky upon discovering her father was taking care of her, but she soon calmed down once in his arms and headed for the kitchen. He brushed off the counter with his hand, clearing off something Absolem must have left there before picking up the bottle he prepared and testing it on his wrist. He didn't realize the fine powder on his hands was Pishalver or that it clung to the nipple of the bottle until the little girl shrunk down to the size of his palm.

"Better." Alice smirked, tumbling down on top of him. "I love you." She pecked him. Then again, and again. Wiggling, she grinned down at him. "Sweet… Like cherry tart." Once again she pressed another kiss against his lips, "Or perhaps custard! Maybe it’s toffy…" The Hatter tried to hold on back his smile, keep his lips ready for her tasting. Teasing. Tantalizing. Tempting. He had already pinpointed her taste-- two parts cream and one part a taste that couldn't be compared to anything else, an undeniably Alice-y taste. It seemed to be a day for T words. Tarrant could only hope Alice could think of a certain T word in particular.

Tare obediently stayed put, sniffling. “Cheer?” He asked hopefully, rubbing his nose.