Remy was breathing shakily, eyes shut tight. He'd floated back into consciousness a while ago, but he didn't want to be there. He wanted to slip back into the blackness. Everything hurt, a numb sort of burn that he couldn't shake, and when he finally willed himself to crack his eyes open the situation didn't do much to lighten his spirits.
He'd expected to be left in the ally, but he appeared to be in some foreign place, tied, taped, nude, left seated against a cool wall which seemed to bite into his cuts and bruises.
Letting out a defeated puff of air, he shifted weakly, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this. He'd gotten through worse.