Britten hadn't actually even tried to think upon waking. She'd seen the IV and the bracelet, ripped both of them out and off, and scrambled out of bed. Or, at least, she'd intended to scramble out of bed. Her legs were in no way prepared to support her, and she'd landed on the floor in a good deal more pain than she'd been in previously. Her first thought wasn't where the hell am I, as would have been appropriate, rather did I just manage to knee myself in the stomach? Then, where the hell am I?
She couldn't have begun to guess how long she lay on the floor, though she did eventually manage to push herself to her back. Everything was spinning, the world too bright, her body too sore. She briefly considered the possibility that she was in the hotel somewhere, but dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came on. She'd never seen a room like this before. So wherever she was, she knew without asking that she did not want to be there. The only places she belonged were work and home, and this was neither of those acceptable locations. And it certainly wasn't a hospital. In time, she noticed the camera. That made her fight to start moving again.
A few minutes later she was dressed, letting her flannel shirt hang open over top of her uniform. She skipped the apron, but managed to ball it up and stuff it into her pocket. She couldn't even say why she did it, but it was hers and she intended to take it with her. She wasn't terribly steady on her feet, so she moved slowly, throwing open the door and managing not quite to stagger into the hall. She knew immediately that she didn't belong in a place like this. Hell, she didn't belong in the same zip code as a place like this. The luxury of the hall unnerved her more than anything else. When she heard a voice, she frowned and followed it. Each step took concentration, and she kept one hand on the wall. She followed the wall around a corner to where the hall narrowed, and a man was calling out. "Who are you?" she asked. "Where am I?"