A Shower, A Smoke, And Several Swears Later [open]
Surprisingly, Sweeney was not alarmed by his awakening in what he considered to be a relatively swank hotel room with no recollection of how he got there. Things like this tended to happen to him. He'd be out drinking one night, having a grand time when he'd have just a touch too much, pass out and wake up somewhere he didn't remember having been. Which was probably because he had been too drunk to remember much of anything during the last few hours of his bender.
He was a little confused at the closet full of clothes that looked like things he would wear. Had he gone on vacation? Was there a lovely lady somewhere nearby that had enticed him away from his regular habits and dragged him off? If so, he hoped he had enjoyed the evening in her company since he certainly didn't remember it. More importantly, he hoped she enjoyed it.
Though, upon inspection of the room, Sweeney found no one else. Hrm. On the desk there was a gift basket, which was more than a little curious, and he went to it pretty much the second he saw it. Inside was a note from “The Managment”, a silver flask, a bottle of Jameson, his filthy obscene old baseball cap, and a pack of cigarettes with a lighter and a note indicating that there was no smoking in the hotel itself.
He scratched his chin for a good long while before deciding it was time to make the most out of this stay before he got booted or what have you. It wasn't like every day he had a swanky hotel at his disposal. He was definitely going to make use of the free, and hopefully hot, shower. It wasn't like it was a regular enough occurrence for him to view having one as anything but a luxury. At least not with soap.
Once showered -with soap!!, and beard trimmed up to make him look a little less like a homeless degenerate, Sweeney rifled through the clothes and dressed as he normally would: jeans, offensive t-shirt, multi-patched jean jacket and his hat. Then he filled the flask, tucked it into his right pocket, grabbed the cigarettes and lighter, tucked those in his left pocket, found the room key and stuck that in his back pocket and left the room to investigate.
First things first, he wanted a smoke. Then maybe to find concierge and get some information on his location and how he arrived. He read on that informational note that this was an island, but it didn't quite hit him until he stepped outside. “Fuck,” he cursed and moved out of the way to lean against the building in the shade. “From Fucken Illinois to Fucken Paradise. Beats the snow and bullshit any day.” Sweeney pulled out the pack of cigarettes, packed it, unwrapped the cellophane from the carton and pulled one free to light. “Little fucken forewarning would have been nice.”
With the cigarette dangling from his lips as he fumbled with his lighter, he continued. “Bet this is Shadow's fault, that rat bastard. I told him to not fucken trust Wednesday.”