"Ah, feck." She groans out in a muffled voice. "STOP yelling." Izzy moans out somewhere from...hold on... wait a minute. Cracking one eye open just a touch, her bleary eye spots..erm, the floor. Yep, face down, with a pile of bras, corsets, skirts and knickers that she must have covered herself with to keep warm, she pokes a hand out and flips onto her side. "It's not glitter. It's fairy dust." She mumbles more than half sleep. "STOP! YELLING!" Groan. "Um, am I wearing clothes?"

(I'm so sorry to fly-tackle another one of your threads but I read the headline and was like, "must.reply'.)