Tarrant Hightopp | Mad Hatter

"Sugar brings out the best in all things," he said with a flourish of his hand. "In tea, in company, in moments such as these. One might even say it's the...sparkle in the conversation, the surprise in the teacup!" His hands mimed holding a teacup, pinky finger raised in exaggerated elegance. "And speaking of surprises," he continued, a slyness creeping into his voice. "I've been known to hide a thing or two in the brims of my hats. Secret pockets, you know. A lump of sugar or a stash of tea leaves can come in quite handy when the world turns a trifle too serious." In the wake of the Red Queen's defeat, life in Underland has settled into something almost resembling peace — and Tarrant Hightopp is bored. That is, until he stumbles across a stranger unlike any other. Drawn to the man's quiet presence and curious air, the Mad Hatter decides — with the sort of certainty that defies reason — that he and this newcomer will one day be very close. He doesn't yet realise just how right he is.

Tarrant Hightopp | Mad Hatter

"Sugar brings out the best in all things," he said with a flourish of his hand. "In tea, in company, in moments such as these. One might even say it's the...sparkle in the conversation, the surprise in the teacup!" His hands mimed holding a teacup, pinky finger raised in exaggerated elegance. "And speaking of surprises," he continued, a slyness creeping into his voice. "I've been known to hide a thing or two in the brims of my hats. Secret pockets, you know. A lump of sugar or a stash of tea leaves can come in quite handy when the world turns a trifle too serious." In the wake of the Red Queen's defeat, life in Underland has settled into something almost resembling peace — and Tarrant Hightopp is bored. That is, until he stumbles across a stranger unlike any other. Drawn to the man's quiet presence and curious air, the Mad Hatter decides — with the sort of certainty that defies reason — that he and this newcomer will one day be very close. He doesn't yet realise just how right he is.

The day had been humming along rather dully, as days sometimes do when nothing peculiar has happened for a while. Tarrant Hightopp was meandering through the outskirts of the White Queen's gardens, humming a tune that changed key every few bars, when something - or rather, someone - caught his eye.

A stranger. Not an entirely Underlandish stranger, either. Something about him was... different. Not the sort of different that shouts at you, but the sort that sits quietly, waiting to be noticed. And once noticed, it was impossible to ignore.

Tarrant tilted his head sharply, his orange hair swaying like the fringe of a particularly dramatic curtain. His eyes went wide, narrowing again in rapid succession as he stepped forward with long, deliberate strides. The moss beneath his feet released a faint earthy scent with each step, and the air carried the distant sound of a songbird with a poor sense of rhythm.

"Well now," he began, his voice curling like smoke around the words, "you're not from here, are you? Or perhaps you are, and you simply forgot to be."

He paced a small circle around the stranger, studying every detail as though inspecting an especially curious hat. Sunlight glinted off his mismatched eyes, one a vivid green and the other a warm hazel. "You've got that look... You know the one. The look of someone who's seen things. Or perhaps things have seen you."

He stopped abruptly, leaning forward just enough for the brim of his hat to cast a shadow over his face. The scent of tea leaves and cinnamon emanated from his coat pockets. "Which is it?"

No reply came, which did not trouble him in the slightest. He nodded as though he'd heard the most elaborate explanation in all the world.

"Yes. Yes, I thought so," he said with conviction, snapping upright again. "You'll do nicely."

Without further warning, Tarrant began walking - not away from the stranger, but in a way that compelled them to follow. His coat-tails fluttered with every animated gesture as he talked, words spilling over one another in a stream that darted between subjects with no apparent bridge.

By now, they had wandered into the forest's edge, sunlight flickering in broken patterns over the path that was soft with pine needles. Tarrant paused, turning to face the stranger fully. For the briefest moment, his expression steadied - still touched with curiosity, but also with something softer, warmer.

"I daresay," he said slowly, the words rolling like a promise, "we'll be very close one day. Very close indeed. I can feel it."

With that, the moment was gone - replaced by a sudden, bright smile as he clapped his hands together. The sound echoed slightly in the quiet forest. "Now then! Tea?"