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The walls were laughing at him.
Well, he knew they weren’t really, but it sounded melodramatic and a little mad, and that’s what everyone expected from him now. Another Hatter gone off the deep end. At least his father had been liked. But then, he’d been the harmless kind of mad. The type that sang about un-birthdays and had tea parties and spoke in half-sentences.
Not Mad like Maddox. Mad with a capital “M” because his type of Madness causes pain and suffering and rage.
Maddox chuckled to himself from his position sprawled on the floor, his hat perched over his face. Nothing was all that funny, but his thoughts had turned dark again, and laughter was his only defence. There was nothing to do in here, after all. Nothing but sit and ponder about all his “dark deeds” that caused his forced isolation.
The Queen had decreed it after his latest stunt in another attempt to get the pocket watch. Well, she’d announced his beheading first which was an interesting change from her usual sickening positivity, though she’d seemed as shocked as the rest of them at the words. With that order revoked, he’d been carted away to his locked room.
Not in prison. The little princess had insisted on that.
She liked him for some reason.
A growl rose in his chest at that, and he sat up suddenly, wrenching the top hat from his face. It stayed clenched in one trembling hand. At least they’d allowed him to keep that. He felt naked without it.
But gone were his tools and inventions. No moving machines or ticking clocks to keep him company. Just him and his thoughts, which felt like an oversight considering which route they tended to go down. The isolation was supposed to track if he’d become more sane and less destructive.
“Saneness,” Maddox spoke aloud as he listened to the laughter from beyond the walls. Another tea party. The Queen’s favourite. “What an odd concept. Wouldn’t a sane person surrounded by the insane be labelled the mad? Hah!”
He bounced to his feet, energy making him jittery. His brain churned with ideas as his fingers itched for something to do. People often forgot that underneath it all, Maddox was a genius, and they notoriously dealt with boredom badly. The events happening beyond the four walls he’d been confined to inside the castle were a taunt, waving the freedom he so desperately craved over his head.
The lone window he had in the room gave him a perfect view into the courtyard where the tea party would be held. He knew that. Knew he could see what they were all doing if he wanted to. Just as he knew that the window had been enchanted so he couldn’t open or break it.
His fingers twitched into a fist before rapidly relaxing. Darkness lurked at the edge of his mind, and he shoved the hat onto his head, gritting his teeth. Restless emotion coiled in his chest, too chaotic to make heads or tails of.
“Too much,” he whispered, before sucking in a deep breath. “Too much, too much. Must make it quiet.”
“Maddox?”
His eyes widened as he spun around to face the door to his room – it felt odd without the swish of his tailcoat. The door was magically sealed to prevent him from getting out, but anyone else could wander in. Just as this person had done.
Maddox schooled his features, planting a cocky smirk on his face. He knew his hair, which had grown considerably in the last few weeks, was a frazzled mess, but that just matched the image they had of him. Of course, he’d recognised the voice of the intruder, but it was still shocking to see her standing there and looking at him with… sympathy? Or was it pity?
“Why, Princess,” Maddox said with a lilting tune. He spread his arms, falling into a dramatic courtesy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The girl’s expression twisted into discomfort; something new following her return from messing with the timeline, resulting in her mother’s change of heart and Maddox’s fall from grace. Oh, yes, he knew all about her little schemes and their impact on his sorry excuse for a life.
“I told you to just call me Red,” she said, folding her arms. Without a smile on her face, she looked less like her mother, who seemed to be endlessly joyful. Red had inherited much of her mother’s looks, with the long red hair, pale skin, and high cheekbones, while her sister seemed to get her mother’s bubbly personality. But then, Red had been raised under a very different queen.
Maddox laughed lightly. “Right, right! Red, rouge, rojo, rosso, rot. Oh, winner, winner – German seems to have nailed it!”
Red’s brow twitched, her eyes softening. “Mads, I—”
“Rot,” Maddox interrupted, cocking his head. “You understand, don’t you? Going back and planting rot that spreads like the plague. Reality is not a game, oh no. Look what you’ve done!”
Vaguely, he knew he was chuckling, but he could only focus on the way Red’s shoulders slumped. Anyone overhearing his words wouldn’t be able to make sense of it. Even after it was brought to the queen’s attention that the watch existed, she hadn’t pushed for answers out of Red. Maddox’s explanation wouldn’t matter, after all. None of them had even believed his story the first time around, so why would they believe him now?
But Red! Red knew what she and that blue-haired princess did, and the impact it had on their timeline. Maddox had looked into his Oraculum (shattered by his traitorous son, how dare he) and seen what his life could have been. Kind eyes and respect and trust. More importantly was the calm on his face; nothing at all like the perpetual twitch Maddox possessed.
So, all in all, the only people who truly understood were Max, Red, and the blue-haired one. Max found out in the same moment that he broke the Oraculum. At least he kept his sanity.
“Mads, I didn’t mean to,” Red pleaded softly. “We just wanted to—”
“Make your mummy a little nicer?” Maddox taunted.
Red scowled. “She was psychotic. She was going to kill Chloe’s mum, and she terrorised Wonderland. I mean, it was you who told me to even go back—”
“Who I was and who I am are not the same,” he sang, before dropping his voice into something more serious. “And I have you to blame for that.”
“No, I think he’s still in you somewhere, Maddox,” Red said. “I believe in you just as much as I believed in him.”
Maddox’s grin faltered, his eyebrows twitching. Red took a few steps forward, stopping within arm’s reach of him. She hesitated as he stiffened, eyeing her carefully. He felt a bit like a frightened animal, and it was not a feeling he appreciated much.
Finally, Red reached out and took Maddox’s bicep in a way that was meant to be comforting but felt foreign. His gaze darted to the touch and then to her and back to his arm again. Desperately, he searched for words but came up blank.
“Hang in there, Mads,” Red said. “I’m talking to my mum to let you out. With provisions in place, no doubt, but you won’t be alone too much longer.”
The certainty in her voice also reminded him of her mother. It reminded him of when he and the queen were close before he saw the time vortex Red had travelled through due to the pocket watch, and obsession got in the way of friendship.
“Give the queen my regards,” he responded before reaching over and plucking her hand from him, pinched between his index and thumb like he couldn’t stand her touching him. It was clearly a dismissal, and Red didn’t linger. The door clicked shut softly behind her, and he was alone again.
For a long time, Maddox stood in the middle of the room, unmoving. He was fixated on his arm, where Red had braved to touch him. In the original timeline, he had known they were close; had seen it when he caught glimpses of it. But his alternate’s connection with her seemed to extend far beyond what he’d anticipated.
“Too much,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “Always too much.”
Then, with a hum, he shook himself from the stupor and promptly pushed the entire interaction from his mind.
After all, if he was Mad, then he might as well use the few advantages it gave him.
The days passed without visitors after that, leaving him with silence broken only by his own murmurs. He used his voice to stave off the creeping loneliness and the ringing that sometimes filled his ears. The only break in his days was when his meals were delivered, complete with plastic cutlery. Metal was too dangerous. He’d made more with less.
The thought amused him. Dangerous for whom, he wondered. Certainly not the guards or the queen. The danger was that he could build something. The danger was that he only ever wanted to build one thing. Created in another timeline but still a puzzle in his own.
His gaze drifted to the window. Equations floated in his head, each number theoretical. The Oraculum had never showed him how to make the watch, and the timeline had changed so he never had done. But maths was a constant, and nobody could lock away knowledge.
The watch was destroyed, but he could build it again. Not here, not now, but eventually. The possibility moved inside him like an infection, and for one awful moment, the idea felt wonderful. For another, it felt horrifying.
Maddox shoved the thought away so forcefully that he physically staggered.
“No.” His laugh sounded brittle. “No watches.”
The silence that followed didn’t sound convinced.
Though Red’s visit was not forgotten, it was rather pointedly ignored. Beyond the walls, life carried on: servants’ hurried footsteps, citizens chatting as they visited the queen, and the chiming giggles of Red’s sister, Pink, drifting through the corridors. Her voice was irritatingly distinct, her relentless cheerfulness infecting the castle until it sickened him.
Give her a few years on the Isle and see what became of her. The memory sent a shudder through him, yet Maddox couldn’t help wondering how Pink would cope. Who had thought cramming all the greatest villains into one place was a good idea? Certainly, they would torment one another, but that would only breed bitterness and feed their hunger for revenge.
The Isle had pushed him over the edge, after all. He’d been obsessive before, but never cruel. Never as cold-hearted as he was now. Even his inventions had only skirted the boundary between innocent and questionable. If they’d only believed him about the watch—
“No use dwelling, Maddox,” he muttered.
More to the point – his original thought experiment: Pink! She’d remain hopeful to start with. Of that there was no doubt. In fact, she would likely try befriending everyone there.
But he’d also seen the mistrust and judgement on her face towards the kids of the villains, slipping through the cracks. Even his own son had a cautious glance thrown his way despite how fond Pink seemed of him. Like she wasn’t sure when he was going to snap too.
Maddox shook his head, refocusing. Pink’s judgement of villains would eventually become clear, and she’d be shunned. To have no one – just as he did, just as he still does – would be what ultimately ruined her. Anyone would lose themselves there, right? He’d seen too many like him there. Too many people turned into him.
His breath hitched. The thought experiment didn’t seem that fun anymore.
With a huff, he sank onto the sofa they’d provided him with, lying down. It was a dark red, just like every other piece of furniture in this wretched place. Red, red, red, red. Paint the streets, flood them; roses and blood bleeding into one.
“Paint the roses red,” Maddox sang quietly, the childhood tune oddly comforting. He could hear his father in one of his lucid moments humming it to him. “Oh, Alice, won’t you paint the roses red?”
To his utter horror, he felt tears beginning to well in his eyes. Frustrated, he swiped at them with a low snarl. Those childhood days of innocence were lost to him. Dwelling, dwelling – didn’t he just say it was pointless?
But the song still brought forward memories of his youth; both the good and the bad. Living with a man that wasn’t always all there mentally wasn’t the easiest, despite how cheery the Mad Hatter had been about it all. It was impossible to have a serious conversation, to confess his worries and fears – not when it was met with giggles and an empty cup of tea thrust at him.
“It’s your un-birthday, son!” Hatter would exclaim, sipping enthusiastically on the air in his cup. “Why would you ever be worried?”
Maddox remembered looking at Hatter and vowing to never end up like him. Madness ran in the family, but it had seemed to skip him over at the time. And, as much as he had loved his father, being sane was something he’d been endlessly grateful for.
Who would have thought that the beginning of the infestation would be caused by his own invention he never got to create?
The unfortunate irony of it all was that it meant Max grew up with Madness too, except it was arguably worse. The Mad Hatter had at least helped Alice put a stop to the old Queen of Hearts, allowing her daughter to grow in relative peace. But then, in one timeline, the current queen had taken to lopping off people’s heads too, so what good did it really do?
Regardless, Hatter had been respected, while Maddox had been cast aside and forced to suffer and scheme and—
Max grew up on the Isle too. It changed him; Maddox had seen that in the alternate timeline. Max had kept the hat he wore now, but he lost the hardened jaw and tailcoat for a bowtie, glasses, and bright eyes. And they were happy in a way a father and son should have been. In a way he and Max were not.
Had he failed his son? Maddox huffed a laugh. Of course he had. When Max and his friends had come rushing to rescue the queen from him, Maddox hasn’t hesitated to put him in dangerous situations. Well, one was particularly lethal, but they had all escaped unscathed. No harm, no foul, right?
“Oh, Alice, are the roses being painted or being dipped in blood?”
“Not the most horrifying question I’ve heard you ask,” a voice spoke up from behind him, and Maddox nearly jumped about three feet into the air. Instead, he craned his neck to find Max standing there, his hands tucked into his pockets.
“Come to break me out?” Maddox asked, crossing his ankles. The way he’d stretched himself over the couch meant that Max couldn’t sit, instead hovering awkwardly at the door.
Max raised an eyebrow. “Yes, actually.”
A muscle in Maddox’s face twitched, disapproval and excitement warring with each other. Instead, he grinned in the way he knew was disarming. “Well, well! The apple falls not far from the tree after all.”
“I thought that was obvious when I tried to get the watch myself,” Max drawled. “The difference is that I at least didn’t completely lose it.”
Maddox put a hand to his chest in mock outrage. “Why, Maximus, I’m wounded.”
“Maximus isn’t even my real name.”
“No? What idiot named you then?”
Max sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I told Red this was a bad idea.”
That sucked the fun out of everything. Maddox scowled, clenching his teeth. Unfortunately, though Max wasn’t as clever as him yet, he still had sharp eyes and noticed the change in attitude immediately.
Max sighed, walking over to perch on the arm of the couch. Maddox noticed that Max was trembling slightly and fidgeting far too much. Okay, so maybe he had failed slightly as a father. A teeny bit. A lot. Shame whispered down his neck, sending chills through him.
“I understand you’re mad at her, Dad,” Max started before frowning. “Alright, wrong choice of words. Angry at her. Truth be told, I am, too.”
“Fine way of showing it, kiddo,” Maddox laughed. “In her castle, playing babysitter?”
Max sucked in a breath. “She bargained for your freedom.”
“Oh, yes, that seems like a fine idea—”
“She got it. You’ve got it. You’re free to leave.”
The taunt died on Maddox’s tongue, shock worming into its place. For a while, all he could do was gape at Max like a useless goldfish before he finally managed a, “What?”
“I know,” Max said gravely. “Maybe you aren’t the only insane one.”
“Down is up and up is down, and they’re letting free a villain who tried to destroy Wonderland a mere few weeks ago,” Maddox said wonderingly. He barked a dark chuckle. “Oh no, they are far more insane than I am.”
Max shrugged. “Regardless, you can’t get the watch. Plus, everyone believes you that it existed now, which is the only reason they thought you were mad.”
“The only reason?”
“So, they say. Though, it’s a bit more permanent now.” Max huffed, shaking his head. “For someone raised by a villain, she holds too much hope. She still thinks you’ll go back to the one she knew.”
“We were friends,” Maddox said automatically. “In her universe.”
“The way she talks about you, it sounds more like a surrogate father.”
The words weren’t meant to be cutting, but that’s what they felt like anyway. He felt his entire body go stiff, unable to find a joke that would take away the power from the sentence.
Max stared at his hands. “You must have been a good father back there. As foolish at it sounds, it’s like she misses you.”
“Unfortunate,” Maddox said as soon as he got his tongue back under control. “But she took that away from herself.”
The quiet that stretched between them was awkward, but Maddox didn’t find himself compelled to break it. Secretly, he felt relief that Max had even bothered to see him to begin with. Although their relationship was complicated, and he had put Max in genuine mortal peril only weeks prior, he did love his son in his own twisted way.
One part of his mind tried to convince him it was pathetic to feel like that. The other half argued it was exquisite. All in all, it was conflicting and confusing, and Maddox squeezed his eyes shut against it.
“Dad,” Max said quietly, but Maddox didn’t move. Max sighed. “Dad, do you want to get out of here?”
Maddox wasn’t sure. In the room, he was lonely and desperate and bored, but it was safe. It kept him contained, even if the voices raged and he wanted to scream. He wanted his inventions, but some awful part of him was thinking about how he technically created the watch and he could create it again, could go back, could set things right—
“Leave?” Maddox asked with a broken voice. “Why should I leave?”
Max opened his mouth to answer, but Maddox opened his eyes again, his nose scrunching.
“Why shouldn’t I leave? Why shouldn’t I be allowed to… to…” Slowly, he turned to look at Max, fear suddenly swamping him. It was one of his few lucid moments, piercing through the buzzing that swarmed his head.
“Max,” he said quietly. “Is it even possible for me to be free?”
Free from the room he was locked in was simple. If he really wanted to, he knew he’d find an escape. There was always a way, and his mind worked on a whole other level to everyone else’s. But that was the problem; he would always be trapped in his own mind. Brief bursts of clarity were possible, but mostly he stayed buried because that was more fun than the alternative. The Madness numbed, while reality hurt.
Max went quiet as he considered his question, but there really was no answer either could give. Everyone knew of the Mad Hatters; Maddox, and his father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father. All known for the same two things: the intricate top hat secured to their heads and the glimmer of insanity in their eyes. No one had ever found a cure. Perhaps no one had really tried to.
Maddox watched Max ponder and knew he would reach the same conclusion soon enough. His son, who managed to keep himself sane, despite the whole world being stacked against him. How did he do it? It was a marvel in itself.
And Maddox could ruin that. Why would Max come, knowing the risk being near him brought?
“You should leave,” Maddox said finally.
Max’s head snapped to him, and he suddenly looked furious. “Leave? I come here for you, and you think you can shun me like that?”
Maddox reached up to grab the brim of his hat, lowering it over his eyes. He didn’t want his son to see the weakness reflected in them. “It’s better for you. Safer.”
“I can decide what’s better for me, and as much as I hate to say it, living a life with you as a father is better than being alone,” Max snapped.
“You have friends,” Maddox reasoned. “You won’t be alone.”
“Don’t you dare,” Max snarled, but Maddox could hear the tears clogging his throat. “Don’t you dare do that to me.”
Maddox forced out a dark chuckle. “I’m a villain, Maxamillion. I can do what I please.”
Max was silent for a long moment, not even bothering to correct Maddox on the name again. Maddox waited for the final moment where Max would snap, would stand and yell and swear, before leaving him alone again. Maybe the queen would come back, would follow through on her threat to lop off his head.
He could picture it in his mind. The falling sweep of a blade, a dull thunk, and watching the world spin as he rolled around and around and around and—
“Look me in the eyes and tell me to leave,” Max said finally, interrupting his thoughts.
Maddox couldn’t answer to that. His fingers tightened over the lip of his hat until his knuckles turned white, terror coursing through him.
“Dad, look at me.”
He still didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t show the weakness – he was worst villain to exist now, and he couldn’t show how much of a sham it was when the Madness faded and his magic couldn’t go into his inventions. Not when his kryptonite sat mere inches from where he still lay on the couch, trying to force him to show his true colours.
“I said look at me!”
A hand clasped over his, jerking the hat away and his protection with it. Maddox was left with his vision full of his son, fury and desperation contorting his expression.
Oh, he was so like his mother. Max had gotten his Asian features and the purple tint to his tips after Maddox (tame in comparison to Maddox’s long purple hair with splashes of blues and greens and yellows), but he got the softness from his mother. He could see her in the curve of his lips and the arch of his brow and the swell of his heart.
“Oh, my dear boy,” Maddox said finally. “How could I ever turn you away?”
“How do I know it’s not the madness talking?” Max demanded.
Maddox smiled sadly. No manic edge to it at all. “Because you were the only thing that ever broke through it all.”
It was only minutes later that Maddox left the room with his son by his side. His hat was pushed low over his eyes again, but he had gotten out, and that was enough.
His boots hit against the thin rug on the stone floors in sharp clips, each beat sounding like the tick of a watch. Oh, how he missed that sound. Everything in that dreadful prison that wasn’t really a prison had been too muffled and too quiet.
Max led the way, navigating the halls falteringly; this was only his second time in the palace, Maddox knew, and he was relying on his memory from being brought to his room the first time. Eventually, they reached the stairs and began to descend until they entered the throne room.
Now this was a place familiar to Maddox. It looked drastically less chaotic that when he’d last seen it, with his enchanted vines cleared from all the available exits and the chandelier that would become his initial cage gone from where it fell. Talking about the chandelier – he looked up and found the ceiling empty of the light. So, they mustn’t have gotten that replaced. How odd.
Laughter bubbled in his chest at the memories. It wasn’t happy. They had a haze over them, as most of his memories did when the Madness was particularly strong. Sauntering in and casting the queen to sleep, draping himself on her throne, using her magic cards to wreak havoc over the kingdom, spying on the kids coming to stop him, taunting the queen and Cinderella when she showed up to help—
“Insanity indeed,” Maddox muttered. “Oh, to let me go.”
“Your Majesty,” Max announced when they reached the middle of the room, and Maddox turned his attention to the throne. There sat the queen, regarding him with caution as Red stood beside her with tentative hope. He pulled his lips into a tight smile and hummed, dramatically whisking his hat from his head to rest over his heart.
“My fair queen!” he crooned, dipping his head with exaggerated flourish. “Tell me, is the throne as comfortable as I recall?”
The queen turned to Red, lowering her voice. Maddox still heard the question though: “Are you sure about this?”
Maddox popped the hat back on his head, opening his arms widely, as though pleading innocence. “Really, your majesty. All these years, and you don’t trust little old me?”
“Have you given me a reason to trust you as of late?” the queen responded, and Maddox scoffed.
“You make it seem like I’m barking mad!” He laughed, and then laughed harder when no one joined in. Nerves made his pulse flutter too fast, but he tried to ignore it in favour of settling into his usual role.
“Maddox, I gave you a second chance when I allowed you to return from the Isle,” the queen said, and Maddox lifted a finger.
“The wall that trapped us in that awful place dropped. Really, there was nothing you could do to stop me.”
“But I could have made life very difficult for you,” the queen insisted. “But I didn’t. I gave you a second chance, and now I am giving you a third. I beg of you, please, do better this time for I will not be giving you a fourth.”
Maddox dropped into another bow instead of answering, twirling on his heel to start heading for the grand doors that granted his freedom. But the turn reminded him of something, and he continued his momentum until he faced the queen again.
“One more thing, your royal queenliness,” Maddox chirped, before he allowed himself to settle again. “My coat. Where is it?”
“You can call me Bridget, you know. We were friends once,” she said idly, before looking to one of her guards. “Please, fetch his coat.”
The guard’s feet clipped together, and he clasped a hand over his chest. “Of course, my queen.”
When he returned with that familiar burgundy tailcoat with its golden chains, and his classic fingerless black gloves, Maddox could hardly prevent himself from whooping with joy. With a sharp movement, he snatched it before anyone could think about changing their mind.
The fabric smelled wrong; dust and roses instead of machine oil and smoke. Regardless, he put it on immediately, straightening the belts on his waistcoat and his striped puffy trousers as he did so. Something inside him loosened, soothed by the familiarity. It was incredible how much the clothes helped him feel like himself again.
“I believe we have an accord!” Maddox announced, throwing an arm around Max’s shoulder. His son stiffened and Maddox remembered that he had a lot of work to do to mend the fraught relationship they had.
But he didn’t mention it then; not when there were eyes watching and judging.
“You’ve spent so much of your time mourning the man you could have been,” the queen told him. She lifted her chin. “Perhaps it’s time to decide who you’re going to be.”
Maddox had nothing to say to that, and even Max looked surprised. It was so completely out of the blue that he was left uncharacteristically stumped.
The queen’s expression softened. “I’ll see you later, Maddox.”
That spurred him back into action.
“Ta-ta!” he called as he turned away once more, and together they left as father and son.
They reached as far as the end of the courtyard before Maddox heard the rush of footsteps behind him, gravel crunching beneath the soles of boots. He glanced over his shoulder, his grin dimming when he saw the princess standing there.
“Oh, it’s you again,” he sighed.
Max crossed his arms as he came to a stop beside him. “Hi, Red.”
“Max,” Red greeted back, nodding. Then she looked to Maddox, and there was that pity again. It sickened him. “Mads, I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re out.”
“A little birdie told me that was due to a certain time meddler,” Maddox said, narrowing his eyes. “I suppose I should say thank you.”
“No, you don’t.” Red took a deep breath in. “You really shouldn’t thank me. I am truly sorry, Mads. I just hope one day you can forgive me.”
“And become who your Maddox was to you?” he sneered. “Caught in the past you couldn’t help but change, Princess?”
“You’re not him,” Red said quietly. “I don’t expect you to be.”
Maddox regarded her, trying to see it from her perspective. To grow up under a ruthless monarch, probably seeing more blood spilled in her childhood than anyone on the Isle had. To have him, a sane inventor, as her best friend. No, as her only friend. And to be given a chance to go back, to gift herself a new mother, a new life, unknowing of the consequences it would bring.
“Tea!” he announced suddenly enough for Red and Max to startle. “Tea is at four o’clock sharp every Friday. If there was something my father was known for, it was how to throw a good old tea party, and I got rather sick of hearing all the queen’s while being unable to join.”
Red hesitated, glancing at Max. “Are you inviting me to tea?”
“I don’t know, Princess. Perhaps it’s just another of my ramblings.” He giggled to himself, turning away from her once more.
“I’ll come if you drop the stupid title and start calling me Red!” she called from behind him. Maddox chuckled, shaking his head.
“Oh, Princess, who has ever been able to make a mad man do anything?”
Red came for tea on Friday. And Maddox… Well, he kept calling her princess.
Somewhere between the first cup and the third, neither of them spoke about timelines, though it would still creep back to haunt him later. For now, though, the workshop echoed with laughter as he sat with Red and Max, something echoing what was once lost.
This time, it didn’t sound like the walls were laughing at him.