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. )

The naked man awoke with a start. Already the nightmare was fading; something about a spider. Or a boy. Or a spider-boy? Dreams were funny things that way, and usually irrelevant, though he was old enough (so very old) that he knew it wasn't always the case. This one seemed a bit too far-fetched to put much stock in and he promptly dismissed it.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair and looked around. Nothing here looked familiar. Where was he? Come to think of it, who was he? He stood up and headed toward the bathroom, a slightly puzzled frown on his face. He lifted the seat and took a good long piss, as if he'd been holding it for days. Before leaving the bathroom (without bothering to wash his hands, as from the smell of things he would be taking a hot shower very shortly) he paused to look in the mirror.

( That was new. )