He didn't want to sleep in that office.
Lindsey was glad to be out of... wherever the fuck it was that he was, with that basement, and the fake wife, and the fake kid... but he didn't believe for a second that this wasn't another one of Wolfram and Hart's tricks. There were innumerable hell dimensions. This was probably just another one.
It was really unlikely he'd see 'his' L.A. again, or Eve again. That second part made his chest hurt.
Almost immediately after arriving and checking out his office, trying to find a letterhead that said something other than LINDSEY MCDONALD, ATTORNEY AT LAW on it, Lindsey was out the door.
The street out here was pretty normal looking, but that didn't mean anything. He felt exposed here, and he didn't like it. Those tattoos were starting to look like a good idea again. He could find a tattoo artist to re-do them, he knew. He furrowed his eyebrows, half-glaring, and continued down the street.
When he saw a convenience store, he ducked in, looking for a newspaper or something that'd tell him where he was. There was a t.v. on behind the clerk and it was running news he didn't recognize, but it wasn't mentioning the name of where he was.
There wasn't anyone else in the store besides the clerk, who went from half-asleep to full-on asleep, looking seriously like he might be dead. Lindsey scowled, pushing his hair off his face, and looked up when the bell on the door rang. Good. Maybe he could get some answers, now.
A blonde woman walked in, and Lindsey turned on his best million-watt smile. "Hey, 'scuse me," he said. "Sorry, the clerk seems a little checked out. Do you see newspapers in here anywhere?"