The fairies were dropping acorns on his head again, the little fuckers.
No. Wait. That was a dream. This, this was... his hand? Yes, even though it was dead from the angle at which Gabe had apparently fallen asleep in the (less than entirely comfortable) armchair in his office. And that noise, that was someone hollering at his door. OK, he was on a roll. Now, how the fuck did you stand up again?
As he staggered across the office, a rustle and derisive hoot suggested that his owl had come back from... wherever he'd sent it. He'd remember that in a minute. First things first: Gabe pulled the door open, smeared his cheek against its edge to hold himself up, and said, pretty coherently for the circumstances, "Rrrmph?" Wait, eyes open. "Walker?" he managed.