Surprise
No one was surprised that Pierce fell for Alice, nor how fast it seemed to spin out of control. He was a Role Holder after all.
It was natural.
Where Alice was, Pierce was sure to be there, clinging with what was beginning to seem like a brilliantly feigned innocence and childishness to her arm, her dress, her apron's bow. Even flyaway strands of hair would wind up around his fingers when the wind began to blow.
He wasn't fussy.
It wasn't surprising that when he should have been smeared in dirt and blood, sweating over a deep grave as a corpse laid putrid and rotting mere inches away, he was instead curled in the right pocket of Alice's apron, thrown on the floor in her haste to sleep, a habitual gesture that allowed him to squeeze under the door and reap benefits only this clothing could offer. Warm, comforting, safe.
Finally.
Those few who were allowed into his home were unsurprised to see a gradual increase in the amount of blue thread that dangled dangerously low from the ceiling, of the used teabags that were stuffed into the corner next to his bed and were absolutely not to be sat on, nor the 'Drink Me' bottles stacked like glass pillars that of all things had been dusted more than any of his other trinkets had.
They shone like crystals.
It was a complete surprise, however, when Pierce noticed a growing number of his hat pins began disappearing.
It was only natural.