Glinda rolled onto her side, the pounding in her head becoming unbearable now that the sun was rising. She sleepily reached for her nightstand. If she could just sit up long enough to pour herself some water from the pitcher by her bed, at least then she'd be able to—

She froze and opened her eyes. She wasn't in her bedroom. The bed was far bigger, the walls were green instead of pink, and her nightstand wasn't there. She closed her eyes again and tried to take stock of the situation. The Wizard had thrown a party the night before, and she should have been more careful. It was a well-worn joke about the parties he threw at the palace that you never knew who you'd end up with the next morning, so Glinda had tried to stay by Fiyero's side, she remembered that much. But then The Wizard had stepped in and introduced her to more old men she didn't care about. Fiyero got bored, of course, wandered off, and the rest was a blank. At least she wasn't sore down there, she could be grateful for that, at least.

She sat up, then immediately clutched the sheet to her chest. Why was she—

"Oh, good, you're awake."

She flinched at the familiar voice coming from the corner. Back at school, she'd been the one to try and convince Elphaba that The Wizard was just a man, that he'd gotten to where he was through a combination of politics and popularity, but that didn't mean she still wasn't terrified whenever he came near her.

"Why am I naked?" She demanded, not allowing her fear to show. That certainly wouldn't do her any good in this situation.

"What, you really don't remember?"

She should have known he'd be aggravating about it and not give her a straight answer. She shook her head, making her headache flare up again.

"Well, my memory isn't, uh, exactly sharp either. But, uh, as I recall, we were…entertaining a few people, and I was trying to teach you the finer points of strip poker. But you, uh, well, I'm sorry to say, you're a pretty miserable player. Then you just, uh, fell asleep at the table, but I figured you'd be more comfortable in the bed."

"And you slept next to me?"

"Don't worry about it, you, uh, don't take up a lot of space."

She groaned and covered her face with a pillow. "Just tell me Fiyero wasn't there."

"No, he wasn't"

She put the pillow back; that was a relief, at least.

"His father was, though."

Glinda groaned even louder. She had to get back to her room, to give herself time to think of what to say to Fiyero. She could think of something, she was good at that. Instinctively, she reached for her chair piled with that day's outfit next to the bed, but of course it wasn't there. She was tempted to ask The Wizard for help, but she knew his reaction would just knock her pride even more. So with her head held high, she got out of bed and started looking for her clothes. Thank goodness she loved pink so much—her dress stood out, draped haphazardly over dark green a chair. She was tempted to put it on sans underwear and walk to her room, but then he'd know how nervous she was. She was Glinda Upland, she could handle the situation with pride and quiet dignity, as though fumbling around naked in a man's room was something she did all the time. Without too much obvious modesty, she tried to angle her body so that he couldn't see too much of her at once as she looked for the rest of her clothes. But when she sneaked glances at him, it was clear how much he was enjoying the show.

She found her silky bra on a desk and put it on, trying not to bend over too much to get it to settle around her breasts properly. Her panties eluded her, though. She didn't remember exactly what they looked like, but they were probably pink; most of her pairs were, so they shouldn't have been that hard to find.

He kept smirking at her as she looked for them, having to crouch down and stand on tiptoe to check every piece of furniture. Eventually, she had to walk over to the desk where he was standing, the only place she hadn't looked yet. Her face flushed as she stood in front of him, only in her bra.

"Excuse me, can I…"

"Gosh, I'm sorry, were you looking for this?" With a flourish, he produced the scrap of pink lace she'd been looking for out of thin air. She stared at him for a second, then did the worst thing she could have done in response to his stupid sleight of hand—she laughed.

"That was terrible," she informed him, trying to mitigate her earlier reaction, taking her underwear from him and retreating to the other side of the room.

"I dunno, I thought it was kinda funny."

She rolled her eyes and put her clothes on.

"You've got that, uh, speech later this afternoon. I'll send some people to your room for hair and makeup and, you know, all that. Unless 'incredibly hungover' is the image you want to project."

"Yes, that will be fine, thank you," she replied with as much dignity as she could muster, only deigning to give him the slightest glance as she walked toward the door.

"Nice dress, by the way."

"Thank you, it's—oh!" She yelped in shock as he smacked her rear, propelling her out the door. She nearly turned back to give him a piece of her mind, and maybe even slap him, but instead she kept walking to her room, her posture as impeccable as always.