The interior of the Twining Rose Tea Room was warm, dark, and cozy. Beautiful pseudo-antique tables and wrought-iron chairs with embroidered cushions on them filled nearly the entire room. A charmingly hand-decorated Christmas tree crowded against the far left corner, and a tall set of dark velvet drapes occupied the right corner. The proprietress, a cheerful, grandmotherly person in a dark green evening dress and wide-brimmed tea hat, sat at the one occupied table in the tea house. Usually, she made it her policy to not join guests unless invited, but today was the exception to the rule.

"Not the same thing a bit!" her companion was saying. "You might just as well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same as 'I eat what I see!' You might just as well say that 'I like what I get' is the same as 'I get what I like!'"

"You… might… just as well… say…" the woman said thickly, her eyes staring blankly at the far wall. "That… 'I breathe when I… sleep'… is the… same… as… 'I sleep… when I breathe.'"

Jervis Tetch set down his teacup and beamed at the woman.

"Oh, well done!" he said. "Take some more tea!"

Obediently, the woman reached for the china teapot with mechanical fingers, pouring the tea into her already-full cup and causing it to overflow onto the table. Jervis Tetch, otherwise known as the Mad Hatter, did not seem to notice. He had taken off his watch and was staring at it disconsolately.

"What day of the month is it?" he asked.

The woman continued pouring tea.

"Oh, bother! It's shorting out!" Tetch complained, breaking from his usual Wonderland quotes. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he put them to the woman's ear and shrieked, "Speak, can't you!"

The proprietress dropped the teapot, which rolled onto its side and tipped off the table, and sat up ramrod-straight.

"What… do you want… to hear?"

"I asked, what day of the month is it?" the Mad Hatter said impatiently. "He's late again! Or perhaps it's the clock that's wrong… Two days wrong!"

At that moment, the door burst open to reveal the gaunt figure of Jonathan Crane, dragging the still-unconscious Bruce Wayne by the arms.

"Oh, frabjous day!" the Mad Hatter exclaimed.

"Put down your teacup and help me with this," snapped Scarecrow.

Tetch good-humouredly set down his tea cup and made his way through the maze of tables to assist his fellow Rogue.

"It's very rude to make personal remarks," he said mildly.

"Well, if it weren't for your Wonderland obsession, we might have a decent hideout instead of this," Scarecrow retorted.

"Why, what's wrong with my house?" the Mad Hatter said, sounding hurt.

Scarecrow snorted.

"Well, to begin with, a real hideout would have weapons. I heard the Penguin keeps every safe house stocked with at least three different types of weapon. My last lair had an entire reserve tank of fear toxin! Even an abandoned warehouse might have a few guns stashed away somewhere. What are we going to do when the Bat catches up with us—stab him with butter knives?"

The Mad Hatter's eyes lit up.

"Off with his head!" he crowed. Immediately, the elderly proprietress rose from her table. Still staring vacantly at some point in the distance, she leaned down and, puppet-like, picked up a double-edged axe.

"Off with her head!" she echoed, advancing stiffly towards the mad professor. "Off with her head!"

Tetch clapped his hands gleefully.

"Er—very nice," Scarecrow amended hastily, dodging a haphazard swing. "Can you possibly tell her to stop attacking me?"

"Off with her head!" the puppet screeched again.

"That's quite enough of that," the Mad Hatter told her sternly. Instantly, the woman relaxed, almost dropping the axe. Tetch didn't seem to notice. "And that's nothing to what I could say if I chose!" he said to Scarecrow.

"Yes, yes," the straw man sighed. "However, we had better get this worthless lump of human flesh tied up. He'll be coming round soon. And he'll be here soon enough."

"Shall I take care of our… er… guest?" Tetch asked, taking a 10/6 card from the pocket of his long dress coat.

"Don't card him yet. I want him awake so we can have a little fun when Batman shows up," the Scarecrow said.

"Of course," the British villain said, "but mightn't it be wiser to card him until Batman arrives?"

The Scarecrow heaved Wayne's unconscious body into a chair.

"Why?" he sneered. "Are you afraid our guest might prove troublesome? This is Bruce Wayne, millionaire playboy. I doubt he'd have the guts to fight back if we tied him up with dental floss."

Tetch sighed.

"Good point," he admitted, and went to fetch some rope.