OK. I'm awake. [Hannibal]
While he might not have intended to start a commotion, he did manage to attract the attention of everyone in the vicinity as he burst out of the front door of his cabin clumsily and loudly and collided into the corridor wall. The thin grey t-shirt he was wearing was damp with sweat, melded to his back, and tendrils of dark hair clung to his forehead.
As he slipped down to sit on the floor with his back to the wall, trying to control his laboured breaths, he seemed to be focused on watching something in the centre of his room. But there was no one there, and nothing in particular that should have sent him scrambling out of his room in such a panic - it was just the bed he'd been sleeping on.
Not for the first time, he felt cold and alone and afraid - very much afraid, more likely of himself and his mind and his perception trying to deceive him with a devious little sleight of hand - and looked bewildered as he tried to figure out how he ended up here.
The way he was still panting as he wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled his legs in close made him look as vulnerable and miserable as he felt.