If Jefferson had a magic bean for every time James apologized or said 'sir' he could have had a field that would make the giants from the top of their stalk scoff in jealousy.
He wondered if he should have continued on with the 'don't say sorry' but considering he'd already been scolded for saying 'sir' Jefferson figured that was enough for now. First they get rid of sir, then sorry. Whats more was, James actually asked him if he should have been talking about something else. Finally. A sentence that was longer than one or two or three words.
Smirking into the last few bites of his food, he waited until he was done chewing, folding his hands on the table neatly. "I would prefer you talk about whatever is on your mind. You do a lot of thinking, not a lot of talking. And while I'm sure you've been informed that you don't need to speak or you shouldn't have an opinion or thoughts, well...I'm informing you that you do. Even if you don't think that it's something I want to hear--tell me." The Hatter let that sit in the air a moment so James could digest before standing to take his plate to the kitchen and deposit it into the sink. He'd clean up later.
While James finished his dinner, Jefferson fetched his scissors, there were about two pairs, a longer sort and then a pair meant for tinier cuts. He also retrieved a comb, a bowl of water, and a towel. Setting them on his end of the table, he moved to sharpen the scissors, dragging them down a belt and eying them with precision. "Do you have a preference for how your hair is cut?"
This might have been a dangerous question. He'd either have loaded James with too much to ponder, or, the poor thing would get worried and have absolutely no idea how to answer. Or both. Such a complicated thing, his twin.