Lorne woke up to alone and in a cold bed. Sitting up with a yawn, he ran his hand over his face before threading his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He looked around for any sign of Helena, but couldn't see any clues, at least until he spotted his clothes folded on a chair, his gun and thigh holster sitting on top.
"Well, that's convenient," he muttered as he rose, stretching. He gave a soft groan as his muscles twinged, but smiled as he remembered what caused the ache. Still smiling, he went over to his items, glad to see everything he came in with still in place. He dressed, looking around the eclectic room after tying his shoes.
Finding no hint as to where Helena might have gone, Lorne left the room. Not the best idea he'd ever had, seeing as he got lost no more than five minutes after he left.