A/N: Wow. That is all I have to say. Just wow. Well, no, I want to say wow and THANK YOU. I am very grateful and thankful to all who have reviewed, added my story(ies) to their Favorite's list, added me as a Favorite author, or put me on Author Alert in case some of my work shows up again. The word 'appreciative' does not even begin to describe. I even admit to tearing up a little when I saw that my first story, "A Hatter's Hands" had hit 30 reviews! Thank you so, so, so much!

Secondly, This one is a bit longer. I hope no one minds that—there seemed to be so much more to put here on the topic of his eyes.

Summary: Alice muses on Hatter's eyes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alice in Wonderland or the Hatter. If I some day do, I'll put it on Facebook.

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Alice loved the Hatter's eyes.

Hatter's eyes were large, round, and very changing. It really did just depend on the mood he was in.

After a time of investigating, questioning, and just plain watching, Alice could pick out what colors pertained to what.

See, when Hatter was sad, as he often was in the days that Alice would come and go from Underland, his eyes would lighten to a sad sort of blue. Since her decision to stay in Underland indefinitely, she had not seen this color but a few times. But when she had seen it, she only needed to touch his hand, and the blue melted away like water on sand.

When Hatter was angry, his eyes flared to a bright, violent, yellowish-orange, as if they had been filled with a fire. She had seen this color once.

Then again, she supposed she wouldn't appreciate it if Chesire had stolen her hat either.

...Still, Tarrant had overreacted a bit, lobbing that teapot at the evaporating feline. It hadn't done much good, after all.

When Hatter was drifting into madness, his eyes went to a pale green. It had taken Alice quite some time to catch that, because she couldn't exactly just rely on his voice to take on the Scottish accent before he was hurling things across the room, or venturing off into a rant about who knew what. She started watching extra carefully, and once his eyes shifted more towards green she'd distract him in some way or another—be it a hug, a kiss, a snap, or a scone tossed at his head—it stopped the oncoming episode.

Then again, sometimes she let him go a little mad. It was Alice's belief that everyone needs to be mad sometimes, and so occasionally his eyes made the complete cycle to light green, and she'd sip her tea and watch his eyes churn.

Admittedly, it had taken her longer to distinguish between the green of madness, and the green of arousal.

Tarrant's eyes went towards a bright, grassy green when he was aroused. She had figured this out on her fifth trip to Underland. Granted, they already had consummated their love a few times previous and she hadn't seen his eyes go quite that green. Hatter had been gentle, sweet, and careful. This time, however, she found him sitting in his usual chair with only himself for company, and with his hands folded underneath his chin, his liquid eyes a color she had not recognized.

That was quite a memorable 15 minutes.

She hadn't even gotten the chance to ask him what was wrong; why were his eyes such a strange color? They hadn't even made it in the house.

They hadn't even left the table.

They hadn't even left Tarrant's chair!

However, her dear Hatter was a predominantly happy person. His eyes were almost always the color of golden-rods—bright, cheerful, and sunny. They stood out sharply against the teal and fuchsia eyelids, the deep mauve underneath his eyes, the wild orange brows, and the white eyelashes.

She often enjoyed seeing his eyes when he and the March Hare would get into a riddling contest—they'd grow challenging and comical and friendly. She also liked seeing his eyes when he presented a dish he had cooked for her, or had made her a hat—his eyes would be filled with excitement, as though he were receiving a treat of some sort by doing something for her.

Her absolute favorite time to see his eyes occurred in the morning, almost always between the time of their waking and the persuasion that went on. (This was a trade-off really. Some days, Alice felt like laying in bed, and would give Tarrant pleading eyes while he attempted to coax her to leave her comfortable spot. Other days, it was Alice doing the coaxing of her darling—neither really won.)

They generally awoke at the same time, and when Alice would meet his eyes, she'd see an emotion that was nothing short of complete, incandescent, glowing happiness.

Alice had never told Tarrant this, but very soon after her eventful second visit, her favorite flowers became golden-rods.

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There we go! I hope this one made you smile like Chessur!

Read and review, s'il vous plait? Merci my dears : )