The flashing lights and loud buzzing was more than enough to wake Oliver from her sleep. She groaned and turned over in her bed, covering her face with her pillow. It didn't help much. After a second or two, she sat up, yawned, and threw the covers off her legs. She went straight to the mirror and, despite her groggy vision, managed to brush her hair down and apply a minimal amount of makeup. She wrapped a few hairbands around her wrist in case she's need to pull her hair up later.

Oliver was still mildly tired when she exited her room, book in hand (which may or may not have been a copy of Dead Wrong that she was rereading for the fifth time), and slugged down the hall. She perked up a bit when she realized she was the last one to walk into the main room. She smiled sheepishly, walked to the nearest wall, and propped herself up against it quietly, waiting for the situation to be explained.