Charlie groaned a little as he came awake. It sounded off, but figured that was just his hearing being a bit funny after they'd knocked him out. His eyes opened to squint around the pink room, wrinkling his nose as he saw the dresser at the end of the bed. Drawing a deep breath, he rolled over a little beneath the covers, blushing at how soft and comfortable the bed was. It took him a moment to realise his leg wasn't hurting, and moved a hand about beneath the covers, feeling his thigh was bare... and there didn't seem to be a wound. Moving his fingers up a little, he felt the ruffled edge, and brushing along it, realising it was the hem of a dress.
"No.. ", he grunted, lifting his other hand out from beneath the bed sheets, spreading the fingers across his eyes, as the soft pink light was hurting them. He squeezed them closed for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to shake off that hazy, comfy, sleeping feeling that seemed to have a tight hold over him. Pushing the covers back, he scrambled over the edge of the bed, feeling the frilly edge of the nighty tickling the tops of his thighs before he suddenly fell forward, landing on his chest across the floor with a groan...