Fifth Floor
With all the talk about the full moon, Oliver had decided to approach it as calmly as possible. And that... that was why he took a nap. His copy of Dracula, recommended reading by his old acquaintance Aiden, sat next to the couch where he had dozed off sometime early in the evening. Dreams were filled with things he only vaguely recognized, people in straitjackets locked in small cells, so much screaming, madness, and he had been in charge of it all.
He awoke with a groan, rolling over onto his side and off of the couch that was now placed in a room resembling a very old and well-used office. Grumbling, John rubbed a hand over his face and pushed himself back up, glancing about his office with a bit of confusion, gaze quickly sweeping back to the couch. Naps were taken in his home, not in his office. "You're going as mad as your patients, John," he murmured to himself, straightening the suit jacket and vest he wore, making it out of the room.
Stepping out into the hallway, John paused, a brow arching as he glanced this way and that, thoughts tripping over themselves in his mind as he tried to place where he was, what was happening, the information that was streaming through his brain. But there was no one in the hall with answers, so, spying a stairway, John started down.