Lewis slowly came to consciousness. From the pounding of his head, he knew it would be a bad idea to open his eyes before taking a little inventory. Ugh. His brain felt like it was mired in boozy, purple sludge. Eye sockets aching. Tongue thick and completely dry. Stomach sloshing a bit, not too bad. Everything else seemed intact and uninjured. Notably absent was the usual morning ache deep in his loins. He slid an exploratory hand down his stomach, past his navel. Sticky. Must have been a good dream, that didn't happen very often.
He pried open first one eye, then the other, trying to focus. The room he saw was utterly unfamiliar to him.
At once fully awake, he searched his sodden memory for clues of what he was doing here. He felt like he was trying to communicate with his brain through a bad telephone connection that kept breaking up. Gradually, the events of the previous night struggled out of the fog and clicked into focus.
Oh bloody hell.