James Barrie couldn't help but gape at the man standing before him, clad in what seemed to be a spoof on an outfit he himself was wearing. The man—who was standing, as James was sitting on the ground and writing something in his notebook—beamed down at him, apparently very happy to be standing before him. James found himself staring at the blinding whiteness of this other man's teeth, and the dark blue, borderline-violet eyes nearly shadowed by a large top hat.

Suddenly mesmerized by the daring plum red of the stranger's tailcoat, James cleared his throat. "You…are annoying me." He seemed to have realized what he had just said, and he looked up at the man with a startled, apologetic expression. "Excuse me," he stammered, flushing at his bluntness. "That was quite rude of me—"

"You're James Matthew Barrie, ain't ya?" the stranger interrupted in an all-too-cheery voice. He tapped a long, colorful cane on the ground before him, and James realized that he was wearing a pair of violently purple, rubbery gloves.

"Ay," James said slowly. He slowly raised an eyebrow. This stranger was suddenly giving him an interesting urge to write a story on him. He lifted his pen slowly, still gazing at the man before him, not exactly doing anything with the pen, yet holding it up all the same.

The stranger held out a rubber-clad hand, still grinning. "My name's Wonka. Willy Wonka, really."

James took the hand and shook it. He blinked several times to regain his composure. "Willy Wonka, weal—er—Willy, Wrean—ay, shite…pardon my language…."

Was James M. Barrie…flustered?

"Not a problem. I've read a few of your works, and I must say, you're mighty smart up there, Mr. Barrie!" Wonka piped, tapping the side of James's head gently.

James stammered. "Have a seat, please, Mr. Wonka."

Wonka looked at the ground, his top lip slightly curling at the thought of sitting on the dirty, icky, germy grass…he swallowed and rolled his shoulders back, giving James a nervous smile. He finally sucked it up and sat down daintily in front of the famed writer. He sat down cross-legged, resting his cane on the ground beside himself. He did the same with his top hat. He looked around the park and smiled again. "It's pretty."

James…was still staring at Wonka. "You're…."

But he just shut his mouth.