Entrusting her baggage to a bell boy who looked somewhat familiar, Wanda made a bee-line for the pool. She'd been wearing her swimsuit under her clothes on the flight over; she was ready for this. She stopped only to invite Nick to the pool with her and after he gave her a withering look she shrugged and walked away. He was being surly, but this was Vegas and there were prostitutes- he'd get over it.
Meanwhile, Wanda had a lot to get over herself. She still wasn't sleeping properly thanks to undead corpses popping up at the most inopportune times in her dreams, and now there was the idea of a second pseudo-son to contend with. Certainly, this was not the best week ever.
At the poolside she stripped out of her clothes, pulled on her sunglasses and fell onto a chair in her little red and white polka dotted bikini. This pale Eastern European needed a good old fashioned sun tan. And a mohito- which magically appeared in the form of the bartender from the swim-up bar wandering over and asking if she wanted anything. Yes, Vegas was going to be lovely.