Dumas’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug of defeat when Chester informed him that geek glasses were making a comeback.  Fashion always bewildered him -- as far as he could tell, each new style seemed to come out of nowhere.  So he simply accepted the magician’s verdict on such matters.  After all, Chester not only observed trends, he frequently set them.  It was a rare night when at least a few of Wonderland’s patrons weren’t wearing pieces of cat paraphernalia or clothing dyed a very particular shade of purple.<br/><br/>However, Chester’s mischievous threat to throw Dumas a surprise party earned a much livelier response.  “Oh god, please don’t!” Dumas begged, genuine panic leaking into his voice.  He could vividly imagine how that would play out.  A darkened room, people hiding as they awaited the guest of honor.  His arrival, greeted by a loud noise and bright flash of light.  A moment of deadly instinct, stronger than any rational thought, and a gun drawn from its shoulder holster.  A shot fired.  One of his friends, the people it was his duty to protect, lying bleeding on the ground.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Surprise!  Happy birthday!</span><br/><br/>Dazed, Dumas shook the vision from his head.  And then realized that he’d seriously overreacted to something which was only intended as a bit of playful banter.  He felt like someone who had crumbled to his knees after receiving a friendly punch in the arm.  Scrambling to cover the moment of weakness, Dumas gathered bluster back around him like a shield.  “I mean, the candles on the cake would probably violate our fire code.  I’m old enough to be the father of half the people in this club.”<br/><br/>‘Father’ was a bit of an exaggeration.  But ‘big brother’ wouldn’t have been.