you're the fairy bomberman

Waking up in hotel rooms she couldn't immediately place was no uncommon occurrence for Envy.

Placing one – after a moment to let her gaze sweep the room – as being on Fandom? And not one she remembered booking? Slightly more uncommon, but not entirely unheard of. Especially on a weekend she knew she was supposed to be on Fandom, anyway. Reunion. Why wouldn't the island just yank her back when it wanted to? Really, she should have expected it.

And all in all, all that she was a little miffed about was that the island hadn't thought to plop her husband beside her. She pushed herself up with a sigh, got herself a silk robe – at least her things had made it here with her – then checked the room number so she could text it to Peter. With nothing but said number and the word Fandom.

Which was not a specification on her location, but rather the requisite, mild 'ugh, Fandom'.

[ooc: Open, open, suresies.]

So, that had been an awfully short school dance experience for both Natalie and Sam. She couldn't speak for him but she personally was just fine with that. They'd gone there, they'd made an appearance, they'd talked to a couple of people for about ten minutes or so, and then they'd been on their way.

On their way here, specifically. The hotel. Where Natalie had just managed to get the door to their room open after some minor fumbling with the key. Or, major fumbling.

"That was weird."

Or maybe she was just a little distracted.

[ooc: For the hormone-addled necromancer, and bound to be NSFW. It's sex pollen time, what did you expect?]