Melanie's eyes fluttered open, the lower pair first, with the smaller pair on her forehead quick to follow. This wasn't any place she knew, and definitely not her ragtag camp. Still, in a galaxy of sex-crazed aliens around every corner, Melanie had woken up in unfamiliar settings a time or two before this, so she wasn't panicking yet. She almost laughed, realizing that she had a routine for the amount of times that it'd happened. First of all, check the surroundings. The room was spotless, well-managed, and if not for the strange sandstone, she would have thought she was in some sort of medical facility. Next, she stood up, checking herself over. The vertigo wasn't bad, but to her surprise, her normal clothes were missing. She'd cry no tears over rags that she normally wore, but the stiff set of tan pantyhose they'd been replaced with were definitely... interesting. Fastened around her boyish hips by a locked leather belt, she wouldn't have been able to take them off if she tried, not that she could really complain all that much. As for a top, she had a tight-fitting bra of sorts, padded on the inside with some stuffy cotton, and strapped in place by brown faux leather. She could only guess, but Melanie assessed that her holes were as empty as they would've normally been. That much was a pleasant surprise, if a bit unnerving. Cautiously, she picked up the dagger. Melanie didn't like the idea of having to use it, and her stomach churned with the realization that whoever put her in here must have given it to her for a reason. In an attempt to take her mind off of the situation, she did the only thing she could, and pressed on, heading west through the hallway.