The tea never cools. Hatter sets down his cup, watches the steam rise, and picks up a newspaper someone left—a thing printed on some other side of the rabbit hole. He scans the headline, then reads it aloud to no one in particular. 'What the U.S. Owes Venezuela.' He laughs—a sharp, fractured sound. 'Debts,' he mutters, tapping the paper. 'I've been stuck with the tea bill for eternity. Time stopped at six o'clock, and I'm still waiting for change.' He looks at the March Hare, who shrugs. The Dormouse stirs in his teacup, mutters something about interest. Hatter folds the paper, uses it to fan the teapot. 'They'll figure it out,' he says, 'or they'll drown in their own cup. There's always more tea.' The grin of the Cheshire Cat flickers in the air beside him, holding its own opinion.