[Iris hadn't had time to ask for any sort of specific soap, no shampoo that she'd used for years. She used what someone had brought to the penthouse and left in the bathroom for her. It was more herbal than floral or sweet, something that conjured the thought of green things, and wasn't necessarily solely feminine. She'd pulled her hair back in twinned braids after her last shower, and in the thickest part of each braid her hair was still damp, still holding the scents of the shower. She breathed in as they walked, too, a decades-old habit born in the time where she couldn't see. Memorizing in an instant what he smelled like so that she could recognize him again even if her eyes didn't.]
A head person. [Her repetition of his own words was soft, thoughtful. She nodded, even as she frowned. No, that wasn't quite right either.] No, I... I was like Jude. His family... [No, she didn't want to think about family. Another try.] She was like you, not like Jude. She was... I had someone before her, but she was the one that knew the stars. [There was something sad in thinking about Death now. Iris had gotten rolled so much into her own problems that she hadn't even wondered what might be happening with Death. The guilt of it showed on her face in another worried frown as she looked up at Hatter.] With red. [It wasn't a question, not really. She nodded.] Everyone thought he was dead.