[Perhaps it's not an event, but to Misty it feels much the same. She's curious about her mirror, though she's fearful to seek her out. Instead she is wandering the mansion, marveling at the beauty of how much they've transformed this place.

Even her clothes reflect the change, all red and black lace with gold trim as she pads barefoot through the mansion, laughing and fairly dancing as she goes. Which is how she nearly runs into a man, glancing up with a bright smile.

A smile that widens, as much as her eyes do as he speaks.]

You're from home.

[It's nearly an accusation.]

And of course. You're in a Wonderland, which I know sounds about as mad as a hatter, but it's true. Maybe not the Wonderland, but it's one of them.