"ah, yes, how forgetful of me." he says, dull, broken, all over again. "they're here to make the hats too," he adds, after an uncomfortable beat of silence.
"wasn't always one cat," hatter mutters, opening the faintly glowing door- to a large crafting room. the sun filters through a window above you all, and in the middle of the room various hats are thrown about in different states of disrepair. scissors and needles, felt and thread are all accumulated on the table, and on the wall to your left, there is a lighted rack of hats all similar to the one the hatter is wearing.