#ic;queen

At their response, he clicked his tongue audibly. Squeezing his fists, the nails left reddish marks on his palms. It was only a mild gesture of annoyance. A severe one would be him lopping off Dormouse’s head this instant. It has happened before, to one of his trump soldiers during the previous Dormouse’s rampage. Yet he couldn’t use the same method to end this encounter, if only for the fact that the White Rabbit is already at his limits. Besides, the person in front of him was Dormouse, whose name held more importance than those of the disposable trump soldiers.

     (Well, as important as one can be in this trashcan of a country, that is.)  

     The sovereign then extended his left hand, a silent command understood by his aide. Soon, the comfort of the scythe was in his grip. For a moment his gaze flickered from his scythe to Jack. Has he gone softer now? The blonde didn’t even budge at Dormouse’s words, even though he unsheathed his sword at the 89th Alice’s harmless retort back then. No matter.

     The Queen of Hearts paid him no further mind.

     “Very well. I too would rather spare my thoughts on my beloved trumps. They're much more pleasant, after all.” Words were spoken as his figure rose from the throne. “And while we’re at it, you should dye your hair black. I hate the colour red.” It didn’t weigh as much as an order should. Just an added reason to kill them once they fail their job.

     The ticking of heels echoed across the hall as it drew nearer to the newcomer. When it stopped, the Queen had outstretched his scythe toward them.