Hatter was enamored of Halloween, and simply would not shut up about it. Carol wondered if the English didn't celebrate Halloween—perhaps that explained his interest.
Alice and David had been furtively discussing whether to wear costumes (David in favor, Alice unsure), and Carol overheard him saying they should just surprise one another. Her daughter had readily agreed, but never said a word about her plans for that night.
Halloween arrived, and Alice came from her room wearing the exact outfit—down even to the stockings—that she'd worn the night she was lost. Carol was confused, not understanding at all how Alice considered the outfit a costume. Then Alice had greeted David at the door, and Carol was not so obtuse as to miss the meaningful looks and secretive smiles. She was left more befuddled than before.
David, Carol thought, looked more himself—more comfortable in his own skin—than ever. From brown boots to trousers she could only describe as "eggplant" and a shirt she couldn't begin to describe—all topped with a trim leather jacket and a rather shabby-looking hat—he just seemed…normal. Which was very unsettling, to say the least.
And she didn't particularly care for the eyeliner, either.
What really raised her eyebrows was David's comment, which Carol suspected she was not meant to overhear—
"You look just like you did when we met."
—and Alice's reply—
"So do you."
—because she'd never seen a construction worker dress like that. Still, maybe he did, maybe that's what he had been wearing when he found Alice in that building…but—wasn't Alice unconscious when he found her?
"So, you two—what are you supposed to be?"
David and Alice grinned at one another.
"I'm Alice, and he's—"
"Hatter." He rocked on his heels, clearly pleased with himself.
"—the Mad Hatter."
"Oi!"
Alice elbowed his ribs, and David fell silent.
Carol arched one brow. "Alice…in Wonderland?"
Alice colored. "Exactly."
"Not The Alice, o' course. Just Plain Alice." David grinned knowingly at her daughter.
"Oh…that's…that's very nice." For reasons she couldn't explain, Carol was extremely unsettled at hearing them talk like that. Something important seemed to be happening, and she was missing it. "I suppose you should run along—you don't want to be late."
Hatter grinned at her. "You know, Mrs. Hamilton—you'd make an excellent White Rabbit."