Becky wasn't aware that she was dreaming. On some level, maybe, but it was buried in her subconscious and she didn't bother digging that deep. She rarely did. There had been a door, or perhaps she'd simply appeared in this room; she couldn't be sure. She wore black, and while in the waking world she was nothing special, here she held herself like a queen, faint strains of jazz and chatter trailing behind her.
She blinked. Wherever she had been, wherever she should be, this wasn't it.
"Hm." She cast a glance around, disdainful, and then her gaze settled on the man behind the desk. There was a whisper in her mind, a tug, as though she knew him. But the real world was so, so far away, and she couldn't quite grasp it. "Who are you?" Her voice was soft, like velvet or silk, but there was an undertone of something else. Dark, even dangerous, and she tipped her head to the side curiously.