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Awake.


Unsure why, grappling for pants, his brain suddenly realizes that that grating hissing noise he didn't realize he was hearing is a shower. His fingers settle on his pants and he grabs the belt. He snags the pouch of Lucky Strike and begins to roll a cigarette.


This isn't his place.


It dawns on him very gradually that he isn't entirely sure where he is.


Still, nothing to panic about. Not like it's the first time. He finishes rolling the cigarette and lights it, rolling off the couch to look (futilely, it would turn out) for his shoes. Having not managed to find them by the time he located the door out of the house in the kitchen, he makes his egress, figuring he has more shoes at home.


Anticipating a longer walk than he would generally prefer (which, let's face it, at 8 AM was no walk at all), he decides the best thing to do is to get a quick caffeine injection. Since he has most of the town between him and a pillow he recognizes, there should be no difficulty in getting some coffee.


It all feels familiar somehow, though he'd never been to that house, never slept on a stranger's couch, never walked this particular avenue of his tiny town, though he knew the area. A shiver runs through him, subconsciously; probably just the chill.