The move made Ida’s eyes instantly narrow. It’s not that Mister Greengrass felt threatening, but she rather preferred thinking he had no ulterior motives. Was he flirting all this time? And why did the thought sting? The possibility that he might get in her way brought everything into sharp relief about him, for the first time in… well before the dance, probably. Which was about when he started acting strange, too.

That realization, and what he said, slotted into her mind like the story she read Tao for bedtime once. The Cheshire Cat not-quite reassuring Alice: we’re all mad here.

“Pfft.” So she really had gone mad with love. Her eyes went from her wrist to his face, where she noticed a fine dust of white settled all over his hair and shoulders. All at once, he didn't seem like a threat at all. She wrestled her wrist from his grasp, and self-consciously looked around. Only to turn back to him and swat gently at his shoulder where -- “...Powdered sugar?”-- settled. The witch looked exasperated as she took another sip of her drink. He was entirely affable, which made her wonder why she never took the easy route and simply considered the man. Was it that he reminded her of her brother? But he was easier to converse with. Took her seriously, as well. But there was nothing for it. If he thought of her as anything more than a friend, she should nip the bud now.

“If that’s the case, let’s go mad over a cigarette,” she decided, looking equal parts skeptical and bemused. “Though you are quite strange to keep me company through such a thing.”

---