[Susan wakes up, blinks at the ceiling, and quickly and silently rolls out of the bed. It's been quite some time since she woke up in an unfamiliar place, but there's some things you simply don't forget. She ducks down between the bed and the wall for a second, peering at the other - but it's empty. Somebody else might be around, but they're not in here right now. She's in pajamas she's never seen before - probably best not to think too hard about that yet. A quick look around doesn't turn up anything she could defend herself with. She ought to figure that out first.

At first blush, the place doesn't seem quite so serial-killer-chic as what she's been accustomed to. Then Susan happens across the first photograph - herself, at a wedding she has most certainly never had - and she immediately revises that assessment. It's just a different flavor of creepy.

First things first, then. She slips into the kitchen and easily finds a knife to hide in her cardigan. Almost too easy, really. 

Her next stop would have been to try the front door - which would have been first for most people, but Susan's learned the value of arming oneself first - and it's on her way there that she inevitably runs into someone. She stops short. Susan is a smaller woman, not at all intimidating, but her gaze is sharp.]

Who are you?

[She isn't reaching for her knife yet; she's not going to stab without cause. But she's fairly sure she hasn't been immortal for months - she'll have to go for it the second things start looking bad.]

[Ah, so this is Hell.

It's not, really. Susan feels she can say that much. But it may as well be. Not only America, but exactly this brand of it - this is everything Susan loathes. She would vastly prefer not to be at this party.

But some habits - video game protagonist habits - don't just die. As long as all of this is happening, Susan figures she may as well sneak around and see if there's anything of use. The tables seem pointless, but...well, she's using the whole thing as a distraction, apparently, while she starts up towards a house that is decidedly not her own. She's assumed, from the Robbie manning a table in front of it, that it belongs to a local, but maybe it's actually yours? Either way, she looks up when she realizes she's been spotted.]

Oh, hello. I was just admiring these...shrubs. Everyone here's got such lovely lawns.

[She does not manage to sound exactly enthusiastic about the lawns.]

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