Feni's eyes drifted open, assaulting her brain with bright lights and a mess of blur. "Huh....?" Now, normally, it takes a good solid minute for her to really become coherent in the morning, but this had been no ordinary night for the Colorado artist, engineer and mechanic. She remembered a kegger, collecting everyone's keys, and crawling into bed at the ungawdly hour of 3 AM when she had a 5 AM flight. "SHIT! I missed my flight!" spilled from her mouth before it registered in her brain that she wasn't curled up on her flannel sheets with a cat clawing at her feet.
She was stretched out over two chairs with a jacket draped loosely over her legs. Now... let's recap, ladies and gents, Fenig distinctly remembers being SOBER the night before and falling asleep in her own bed. Not on two chairs in a large reception room. "Where am I?" Of all the delayed reactions in the world, hers should get an award.
An unfamiliar and very skilled looking hand stuck a steaming mug under her nose. She grimaced and leaned away from the offensive fluids within. "What is that swill?" she hissed, reluctant to wrap her hands around the drink.
"Caf. It'll help you wake up. Any minute now a whole group of WAASers will be arriving." When she looked up, the face standing over her, wearing a gentle smile, didn't really click in her head. Somewhere in there a little voice was screaming 'OH MY GAWD!' but her mouth replied with, "Uh...."
The man, his handsome features rimmed with dark hair, lifted her legs and sat on the chair they'd been occupying, letting them set back down on his lap. "Exactly. Drink up." He put the mug in her hands and tilted it up toward her mouth. "It'll help, I promise."
Fenig fixed this man -damnit, what is his name?!- with a wholly unbelieving stare before she took an experimental sip. The warmth spread down into her stomach like a godsend, washing away the last affects of sleep. Now here is where is registers in her mind. "Holy shit! You're Wedge Antilles!"
Wedge just laughed.
Continued in 14