Hatter wasn’t at all used to cold: it took Alice a few days of pizza, questions and getting better acquainted to realize that Hatter was still hunching in his battered leather jacket when they went out, no scarf, no gloves, not even a warm hat, even after the snow began to fall.
She had a scarf in her hands, and on an impulse she began winding it
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“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”
“Something to do with Edgar Allen Poe, I think,” Alice replied.
Hatter gave her a strange look, and hunched a little deeper into his jacket.
*laughs*
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