Fatigue nips at Jon's heels. The bed is deeply uncomfortable (he'd even slept in his clothes, it seems!), awakening to such bright lights is a pain, and the room doesn't smell like the Pembroke. He steps out of the confined space immediately, only to run into someone else in the corridor.

'Pardon me,' he says, reflexively, lips pulling into a polite smile, one that's careful to show no teeth. 'I'm still getting my bearings. Do you know if it's daylight outside?'