Near the front door
The shift, when it came, went unnoticed largely by Oliver until his body urged him to wake up. He ached everywhere, and his head throbbed with a headache that pulsed right behind his eyes. The memories from before were foggy, he could remember John, he could remember...
Lucy had been there.
Abruptly, Oliver sat up, looking about at the lobby suddenly crowded with residents of the building, and he immediately regretted the movement as he collapsed backwards, breathing hard through the pain that pierced through him. "Oh my god," he whispered, his hands folded over his middle, the clothes he had pilfered at the palace in Russia soaked with blood.