Cheshire loved it when he got Dumas to use sarcasm. In Cheshire's opinion, sarcasm often revealed more about people then they'd care to realize, and followed up with the crack on his own sex life was gold. Cheshire was still mildly confused and really interested as to Dumas's 'preference' when it came to his sex life, but that was one more mark for the men, and two more marks for more likely to fuck him then beat him to hell. He was going to comment on just this when Dumas got serious about Mari. As much as he tried to keep up a happy face for her when the subject came up, it was still something that warranted a serious conversation when she wasn't around. The cat avatar shifted, becoming Chester, the man without the cat face, all in perfect detail, standing on the other end of the room.<br/><br/>"I know," Chester agreed solemnly, "but these things can be delicate." A sudden stream of articles appeared around him, all on the same subject. "I've been researching blackouts as well as memory loss, and I'm half worried that being to forward about it could make it worse. If it's a tumor, then all it will take is some surgery and a lot of rest, but if it's psychological...." Chester trailed off, looking for the right window amongst all the sources he'd found. He found the right article and threw it up against the wall.<br/><br/>It was from a renowned psychologist of some sort, and expert on memory and memory loss and a man with enough charisma and knowledge to know how to word a paper for the every day man to understand it. The article in question was about lost days, headaches and the psychological implications behind them. It had a few examples and cases, and all of them had the same elements to them.<br/><br/>"Look familiar?" Chester asked, no longer sounding quite as jolly and crazy.<br/><br/>*******<br/><br/>Out in front of the club, a beat began to rise out of the chaos of the city. A slow, thumping, digital sound that began to slowly layer on more and more as it seemed to get closer and closer. The crowd out in front of the Wonderland Club had already begun to thicken, but it parted like the Red Sea for this sound and its owner. The White Rabbit was here.<br/><br/>He strode in, all in white, a women on each arm and a crowed all his own behind him, and the beat pulsing from his very being. Actually it was the speaker-cloth in his suit vest, but that was for him to know and no one to find out. White walked up to and past the bouncers without so much as a passing thought, right up to Mari and smiled his haughty yet warm smile.<br/><br/>"And how does my kingdom fare today?" White asked, his words pronounced as precise as his dress was sharp.