A/N: Like I said, it's only short, but here it is…
All she was aware of at first, was a dull headache. It was persistent, like a continual throbbing and she groaned, pressing a hand to her head. Slowly coming to, Savannah finally opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times as she waited for her senses to catch up with her. Scanning the room, she assessed her surroundings to check for any immediate danger, before sitting up slowly, to avoid exacerbating her headache. She was alone in a hotel room, although she didn't remember exactly how she'd gotten there. Just a hint of light peeked through the top of the curtains, so she guessed that it must have been the early morning. She was aware of a strange taste in her mouth, which immediately put her on edge.
Throwing the sheet which had been draped over her off, she found her dress was ripped, and her gaze flickered over a number of bruises and cuts over her arms and legs. When her hand brushed her inner thigh, she drew it back, glancing at the blood on her hand. "Shit," she swore, knowing that her worries were true, her carefully constructed countenance slipping. She felt strangely violated, although couldn't quite put it into words.
Getting out of the bed quickly – enough to make her head spin again – she found her underwear on the floor, slipping it on, before looking for her other belongings. All she could find was her cloak and her shoes, thrown in one corner. Her bag with her money was gone, and so were her weapons.
Pausing, she tried again to piece together what had happened, but part of her memory was foggy. She remembered meeting a contact who had some information for her at a tavern in the Towns. She'd had a drink with him, and discussed some matters for a little while. After that… she couldn't remember anything. Raising a hand to her mouth, she considered the taste that remained. It was bitter and all that she could conclude was that her drink must have been drugged. Usually, she was so careful. She picked taverns that she knew, and was careful to keep her disguise. Who would have done it? The barkeeper could have been paid to, if a decent amount was offered. She did not think it would have been the contact she'd met with, for she knew his name and identity, and she could easily track him down. Which of course, she intended on doing.
How could she have stuffed up so badly?
Taking a few quick breaths, she then started into the bathroom, glancing at herself in the mirror. There was a bump on her forehead with a cut that was bleeding, and she grabbed some tissues from the bench, mopping it up as best as she could. Stuffing the tissues in the bin, she then walked back out to grab her cloak, and slip it on. Securing the clasp, she tried to cover her dress, before getting her shoes on as well. While she would have liked to clean up more, there was no way she would stay in the room, in case there was more trouble coming.
Giving the room another once over, she then quickly opened the door, starting out into the hallway. Keeping her steps quiet, she made her way down the stairs, feeling strange without her weapons. Even the ones she usually kept hidden – strapped to various parts of her body – were gone. Making it to the hotel reception, she considered going to the desk and asking some questions, to see if anyone remembered anything. But she knew that they were probably different staff to the ones on the night shift, and she had no money to bribe them with.
Deciding against it, she made a quick exit, looking around to try and gauge exactly where she was in the Towns. Since it was so early, there luckily wasn't too many people around. She could spot a werewolf smoking on the corner, but otherwise, the streets were pretty silent. After a few moments, she worked out where she was, turning down another street. She couldn't head back to the Institute in such a state, or spend too long in the open.
Instead, she continued on her path, quickly deciding where she would go to clean up, glad that it wasn't too far away.