The feeling of a pillow under his head when he woke up was a surprise. He had grown accustomed to opening his eyes and feeling the scratch of the floor or street pavement digging into any exposed skin. The feeling of the sheet on his body was different than that of his own bed, he noticed the bandages that had been wrapped tightly around the wounds that littered his torso and arms. He sat up and winced as the full extent of the wounds seemed to catch up to him

The last thing he could remember was attempting to stumble his way to the Continental after a job that he'd finished but had sustained serious injuries. He remembered the scream of brakes and the blinding beam of light that his ringing ears and blurring vision hadn't managed to pick up on. Instead of laying back down and trying to fall back asleep to avoid dealing with the pain, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and tugged on the shirt he found nearly folded in front of him. In his mind, if the person here wanted him dead then he would've been buried in a ditch hours ago, regardless he still maintained caution as he checked his angles from his position by the open door frame

He took in his surroundings properly, the open window by the bed had allowed the warm beams of sunlight to hit him in the face, presumably what had roused him from sleep. The smell of something cooking wafted through the hallway and to the room he was in where he began listening intently and hearing the sound of what he assumed was bacon sizzling. 10 more minutes of waiting passed as he listened to the dull click of the second hand on his wristwatch. After a breath, he checked the drawers of the bedside table and came away with a pencil. "Better than nothing"

He made his way through the hallway to the connecting room where he found you, humming contentedly to yourself and blissfully unaware of him rousing from what you assumed was a heavy concussion. After silent steps, he pressed the sharpened pencil to tour jugular as he spoke calmly "Who are you and where am I?"