Annie Sawyer

The scream could have been heard across the island, had it not been enveloped in similar screams.

However, Roger hadn't expected anything. The feeling of the cool morning air brushing a bare leg, that was normal, since Roger had a firm stance on pants and how very little he liked wearing them, especially to bed. The blanket felt... different, but maybe Anatoly was just moving shit in. But he rolled over and didn't feel Anatoly. He didn't feel anything, really. Except... fluff. Yes, there was a definite fluffiness to the bed that he was unaccustomed to, but it wasn't at all unpleasant. In fact, he smiled. Tea. Yes. He decided that when he opened his eyes, he would fix some tea and sit down and await his roommates' rousing to discuss the day with them. How nice!

How fucking weird.

Roger loved his roommates, whole fucking truckloads, but Mark was the tea fiend and Mark was gone and Dean would literally toss any tea out of the hut if he saw it. Angua might like it, but Roger wasn't picturing Dean and Angua, not really. He was but he felt no warmth from them. No, he felt a certain amount of... uncertainty toward the both of them--the simple idea of them. And with all of the hex bags and guns around, there was bound to be some kind of accident...

"What the fuck?" Roger groaned, and his eyes shot open. That wasn't his voice. That wasn't even a groan. It sounded tortured, sure, but it was so... high and British. No. No, there was no way this was happening, again. He looked down to assure himself that it was just his half-asleep mind playing tricks on him.

It wasn't. A bright yellow, far oversized tee shirt informed him that Frankie Says Relax, but he didn't, and he (for the moment) didn't give a flying fuck what Frankie wanted him to do, because he was a small, pantsless, black, English woman.

That was when the scream came, and Roger fell out of bed, a tangle of shaved, tanned legs and folds of shirt. He did some terrified leaps as if the ground was made of spiders and found himself in the larger common area of what appeared to be a moderately sized hut. And he screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

MAILBOX FOR ANNIE SAWYER.