#killemwithclass

Oh, no. Intimidating man, intimidating bald man. Don't panic, act cool. Be nice, maybe say hello . . . Maybe he's from the Woodlands, they're a nice bunch. Nothing to be afraid of.

Cheshire was not a particularly patient man. Even less so when, despite all the effort he put into the nightclub, he was barely breaking even and still forced to work long hours as the manager. Alice, the Hatter, the March Hare, the Dormouse- they were all as unhelpful as each other, even when they actually tried.

He was even less enthused to see Bluebeard of all people strolling into the Fables-only section of Wonderland. It was smaller, less colourful and more inconspicuous than the main floor, which of course suited its needs. The tiled floor was marked with playing card suits, but that was as far as Cheshire indulged his origins. Otherwise, the section was primarily sleek and cosy, black and golden shades of colour adding to the atmosphere as a nice change of pace from the vibrancy of the main floor. Cheshire grimly wondered what Bluebeard thought of it.

He vanished and reappeared beside the taller man half a minute after the elder Fable walked in the door, a wide grin on his glamoured features.

Usually he made a point to not forget these things but it seemed that wasn’t happening tonight. Hands in his hoodie pockets and the hood pulled up over his head, Desmond walks without a word, watching casually as a few humans slip by him. He wouldn’t say he was lost… or rather, he wouldn’t admit it. Usually he could find his way without a hitch.

Frustration makes him pause at a gate, frowning a tad as he tries to think. Well, perhaps he could roost somewhere for the night and find his way in the morning. He’s about to go looking for roost spots but pauses, nose twitching.