Letting out a soft, barely audible groan, Dahlia shifts her body around slightly before rousing completely to the sound of Mr. Percey's voice.  Flickering her eyes open and shifting so that she was sitting up; the young woman eyes the pistol pointed straight at her heart coldly.  This was certainly something to wake up too.  She was familiar with the expensive surroundings; the area taking on the constant appearance any hotel would give to their penthouse.  Lavish, large, and with every possible commodity accounted for.  Truth be told, she'd missed spending time in these kinds of places since she'd been burned.  Having spent most of her time since in sleazy bars or motels, searching for information that could be found from the true business man's minimum wage payed employees.<br/><br/>She wasn't wearing her bathing suit.  She was wearing a silk nightie.  "You changed my outfit?" Dahlia asks, quirking an eyebrow and gaining a smirk.  There was something to be said about a man who would take off a woman's clothes only to slip her into something else.<br/><br/>Watching as the other woman comes out of the other room only to leave the hotel room without a shirt on;  Dahlia's attention casually shifts back to Mr. Percey.  "So, did you change my clothes, or was it her?...or was it some kind of odd foreplay that you both did together?" she jokes dryly as she rubs her temple.<br/><br/>Her head was killing her.  She'd kill a man for some alcohol or a Tylenol.<br/><br/>"I am afraid I am going to have to repeat my previous sentiment to you, Mr. Percey.  I have no intention of returning to the mother land."  Though she supposed she could focus on the more prudent details at hand, for now.<br/><br/>"Why are they having me brought back to England in the first place?" she questions; not even bothering to leave her spot on the bed.  She'd been lurking around the Caribbean, asking questions and the such, but she hadn't caused too many majors issues.  Hadn't killed anyone yet, hadn't caused damage to anything.