Well, I hadn't originally planned on continuing this, but several people's reviews have changed my mind. And to all those who have reviewed of favorited this story, thank you so much. I really hadn't been expecting this great of a response, and you all just made my day. These won't really be drabbles because they're too long for that, so I'm not exactly sure what to call them. Anyways, this one pretty much describes Alice's thoughts when she meets Hatter, sort of like the last one but this time in her perspective. Oh, and if there's anything that you guys might want me to address or focus on in a future not-drabble, then by all means tell me. I'm always up for prompt suggestions. Hope you like this!
Right before the odd old man dressed in fisherman's garb ran off, he yelled, "A man who knows!" and disappeared into what Alice supposed was a tea house, considering the red words continually scrolling across the front of the building.
A man who knows…she wasn't exactly sure what to expect. By the way the freaky guy said it, she imagined him to be some sort of fortune-teller. Maybe an old, bearded man dressed in robes like a wizard, who sat in an ornate throne and consulted a crystal ball at times. He'd be a man surrounded by bookshelves upon which sat ancient novels and scrolls containing dark secrets of this crazy place. He'd be a man who dabbled in magic, maybe even have a wand. He'd be a man that brewed potions over a large cauldron. Maybe he was the one that made the colored liquids in those little glass bottles she'd seen on the ground floor. He'd spout words of wisdom, tell her what she needed to do to get out of there. Hey, she could imagine whatever she wanted. In this type of place, she wouldn't doubt of such a person existing.
Of course, the man who knows lived up to none of her expectations. The smelly guy led her into a room that contained quite a few things, but an air of mystery was not one of them. There were no bookcases of ancient knowledge, but instead a rather odd assortment of white furniture. White sofa, mattress, wardrobe, hat stand, tables, and several chairs, one of which was faced away from her. She would've thought it to be an almost standard sort of apartment if not for the fact that grass and dirt substituted carpeting and tile. All she could see was a tan hat peeking over the top of that one chair, definitely unlike one belonging to a sorcerer.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" asked a voice originating from the chair. It sounded rather boyish, lacking the sort of raspy quality that indicated many years of use.
She declined, of course. She had no time for tea and other frivolities; not when she had to find Jack, who had been captured, taken from her and was most likely trapped in that flying beetle contraption from which she'd managed to escape. All she wanted was to find him and get out of this strange place. She was tired of not knowing anything, like where she was, why Jack had been taken, or who the man who knows really was. Therefore, logically, she asked him for his name. And when that chair spun around, those other questions momentarily vanished from her mind.
There was no long, white beard, but just a bit of stubble on his jaw. And there were no robes, but instead moderately normal clothing, although the print of his shirt was a bit flamboyant. She found him to be…well, admittedly somewhat attractive.
Attractive or not, the man who knows turned out to be nothing more than a sleazy, smug man who ran the teashop. And apparently, the smelly old man had only brought her there so that he could sell her to this conceited guy for a vial of what he called "excitement," whatever that was. Maybe this guy was some sort of drug dealer. To be honest, she didn't trust him one bit. People who engaged in the act of buying and selling other people, among other things, generally weren't the sort that she'd like to put her faith in. It didn't help that he gave her a nice look up and down and called her a pretty girl. The way he circled her, constantly invading her personal space, just gave her the creeps. She couldn't be sure if he was checking her out or inspecting her like some sort of product, or maybe it was a mixture of both.
He offered to help her, but all she could wonder was what he'd want in return. He acknowledged that her type of money was useless here in this place he called Wonderland. She didn't believe his whole claim of just being a generous guy who genuinely wanted to help her out. No, she knew that people like him were always after a profit in life, always wanted something in return. The way he kept looking at her, how he commented on her very wet dress, only increased her suspicions. She even got the impression that maybe what he wanted was a bit of her, and that thought was definitely none too pleasant.
But then he mentioned how if he was the frying pan, then out there, that weird place, was the fire. Even if she didn't trust him, she didn't think that he actually intended to harm her; she knew that he was right. She may not have wanted to be anywhere near him, but she'd be much worse off without him. Oysters, the term they used for people from her world, weren't treated with the most respect around here. So she accepted his offer, only because she had no other choice. But she didn't trust him, not by a long shot.
She had no idea that by the time he was through helping her, he'd only end up taking one thing from her in return, something that he wouldn't even ask her for, something that she wouldn't even realize she'd be willing to give him until he already had it: her heart.