[center] [i] [h3] [color=mediumslateblue] Dayo Layeni [/color] [/h3] [/i] [/center] [hr] Dayo was still dazed, and more than a little bit giddy from falling so far, but the Hatter's words snapped him out of his state of confusion long enough for him to have an existential crisis. His brain appeared to have shorted out from the shock of not tumbling to a messy, messy, splattery demise. "Where...? How? Alive? Hatter. Shampoo. Dirt. 'Course." He snorted to himself. He blinked. He blinked again. "Oh, wait." Then he began making connections. "You're called the Hatter? Why would you shampoo dirt? That's absurd. Illogical. Interesting, but still dumb." He continued, on a roll. "How did I get here? How do I leave? Where is here? Wait, wait don't tell me, this is all a dream. Any second now my brother is going to come and laugh at me, right? But how come my umbrella stopped me?" He spat out the last traces of dirt, and his cheeks darkened slightly. That'd been really dumb. "That was thoroughly disgusting. A proper dream would have chocolate dirt." He stopped. What if it wasn't a dream? Nope, his brain refused to accept it. This was not reality. This was simply his mind making little fantasies after he'd read one too many chapters of Through the Looking Glass. Well, if it was a dream, he couldn't do any harm, right? "The Hatter," he pondered aloud. "You're taller than I expected. And you have nicer hair." [@Midnight Howl]