izzyalienqueen | Room 406, morning

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Room 406, morning

At some point she'd have to get up and turn off the annoying music that kept repeating every minute or so. Stupid DVDs should have an automatic shut off after the 100th repeat of the menu music, but for right now she was warm and cozy, with a strong arm wrapped around her.

Still mostly asleep, she didn't realize anything was different this morning.

[ooc: For the owner of the strong arm please.]

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The owner of said strong arm was more than happy not to move, either. In fact, he snuggled a little closer, groggily kissing the bare shoulder that belonged to the snugglee.

It wasn't quite a purr, more a small mew of satisfaction. She struggled not to wake up, not ready to leave the warm cocoon of blankets and face a new day. Sliding her hand down, she caught hold of the hand at her waist.

He entwined his fingers with hers, breathing in the scent of her hair. She smelled really nice. He tried to push some of the sleep aside and bring her name to mind, but he was blanking for some reason. Had he been drinking last night and picked up some chick? He hoped she was cute. She felt cute.

Try as she might she couldn't help but start to wake up. Shifting a bit closer, she sighed. "Good morning..." And that was when she realized something was wrong. Because for the life of her, she couldn't remember his name.

Hell, she couldn't remember her own name.

Instinctively, she stiffened.

He felt her tense and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Hey, you okay?" he said softly.

She was trying to do her best not assume the worst. She was dressed, she was comfortable. It was all probably just a misunderstanding.

"I don't remember your name," she admitted. "And mine's kind hazy as well."

"I'm. . . ." He paused, unable to remember who he was, either. "My memory is pretty hazy, too," he said, pushing himself up on his free arm. "Were we drinking last night?" He didn't feel hungover, though.

Looking around the room, she didn't see any bottles, just a bag of chocolate pieces and a stack of DVDs. "I don't think so? Maybe the chocolate was drugged?"

She turned and couldn't help but smile. Well hello cutie. "So um...good morning."

"Good morning," he said, grinning back at her, appreciating the view as well. He took a look around himself. "Maybe?" he said. "Why would someone want to drug us, though?"

"I don't know. One of those random product tampering things?" A tiny part of her brain was saying she should be more worried about it, but other then the no memory thing, she felt fine and drugs wore off eventually. So for now? She was just going to go with it.

Looking around the room, the decor seemed girlish. And judging from the blonde hair she pushed back off her face, she was probably the girl in a bunch of the photos scattered about. "So I guess this is my room?"

"Sure looks like it," he said. "I guess I'm visiting then? So we must be friends? Maybe more?"

"Definitely friends at least. I mean, I don't think I'm the kind of person that would go to bed with random people," she said, blushing a bit. "At least god, I hope not." Looking at the movies she tried to get a sense of if it was just a night of good friends hanging out or something date-like, but the movies weren't telling.

"I suppose I should get up and look around. I'm sure something here has to have my name on it." Not that she was making any move to get up.

"And I hope I'm not the kind of guy who just randomly hops into bed with beautiful girls," he said. "But we're still dressed, so we must've been just cuddling." He didn't really want to get up, either, but figuring out who and where they were was probably important. "I just hope we haven't been made part of some government experiment or abuducted by aliens or something," he said, reluctantly sitting all the way up.

"Aliens? Government conspiracies? Come on, you know that's just stuff the tabloids make up." Reluctantly she sat up as well, eyes searching the room until she found what she was looking for. "There's my bag. Hopefully it has some i.d. in it."

She got to her feet and went to fetch the bag, smiling over her shoulder as she did so. "I'm not complaining about the cuddling. It was nice."

"I'm not complaining, either," he said. "And it didn't feel weird or anything, so I figure we have to know each other -- whoever we are."

"I think I might have an answer to that. At least for me." She rummaged through the purse and quickly turned up a driver's license. The name and the picture meant nothing to her, but she held it out to him. "Is this me? Do I look like an Isabel? Or that Isabel specifically?"

"That's you," he said, nodding. He peered at the license. "We must be in New Mexico then? At least, that's where you're from?"

He looked around again and spied the backpack by the bed. It looked too drab and beat-up to be Isabel's, so he picked it up and started to rummage through its contents, digging out a wallet. "Hey, does this look like me?" he said, flipping it open and finding a San Francisco driver's license.

"I don't know," Isabel admitted, looking out her window. "That looks a little too green out there to be New Mexico. And there's water in the distance. A lot of it."

She turned back and studied the license before reaching out and tugging a lock of Wyatt's hair. "I'd say so. Nice to meet you Mr. Halliwell."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Evans," Wyatt said with a grin. "Maybe we're in California, then?" He found a datebook and started flipping through it. "Umm . . . do you know what the date is?"

"From the calendar on the wall, I'd say it's September," she told him. Isabel noticed a watch on the dresser and reached for it. "And according to my watch, it's the 29th. Does that give you any clues?"

Even though she apparently felt comfortable enough with Wyatt to spend time with in dressed in her pajamas, Isabel felt that she should probably get dressed if they were going to continue figuring out what had happened, so she started rummaging through dresser drawers, looking for suitable clothes. Of course the first drawer she opened was filled with scraps of silk and lace.

"This says that Homecoming is next weekend," Wyatt said slowly. "And two weeks after that is something called 'Parents Weekend.' And in between that. . . ." He moved over to Isabel's side -- oooh, nice underwear! -- and showed her the date marked "Marry Isabel."

Isabel slammed the drawer shut and started to flail just a bit. "Married? But! But..." Yeah, not much coherence there.

Wyatt set the datebook down on the dresser and tried to grab Isabel's hands to stop her from flailing. "Means we must know each other pretty well," he said, though the thought of marriage made him a little flaily himself. He looked at her left hand. "But I must suck as a boyfriend if I didn't even give you a ring!"

"It could be around here somewhere," she said. "Maybe it's too nice to wear constantly." Although Isabel couldn't imagine not wearing an engagement ring. It would be too important to her.

"How about this? I'll go get changed and we'll go see if we can find someone that has a clue? Then we can get some answers."

"I hope so," Wyatt said. "You deserve a nice ring." He rubbed his temple, wishing he could force the amnesia from his head. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Maybe someone can tell us where we are and what's going on."

"I'm sure it'll be okay," Isabel assured him, reaching out to pat his shoulder. Except if they were engaged then a hug would be better wouldn't it? So she hugged him quickly then turned back to her dresser and pulled out a pair of shorts and a top.

"Give me two minutes," she said before disappearing through the door into the bathroom.

"No problem," Wyatt said, trying to straighten his own clothes so it didn't look too much like he'd slept in them. If this was Isabel's room, maybe he could find his own room and get a change of clothes -- and some more clues about who he was.

It took a tiny bit longer then two minutes, but soon enough a now dressed and made-up Isabel emerged from the bathroom. "Ready to go searching?" she asked with a smile. "Oh fiancee of mine?"

"All set," Wyatt said, offering her his arm. "Let's go."

"Lead on, good sir," Isabel answered, taking his arm. "Does this mean you're my gallant knight?" she asked as they headed out the door.

"And you're my fair lady," Wyatt grinned, as they stepped out into the hall to take a look around.

Here's a link to where the whole marriage thing came from.

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Room 406, morning

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OOC