Harry gave a very groggy smile, and took a sip of his coffee. It was plain black, and very strong. "I've got a cuppa on the stove if you want some." He spoke softly, knowing that if he spoke any louder his head would implode. He didn't think his younger father would be up to dealing with imploded heads this morning.
"I think blacked out is a better term." He didn't really feel like moving, or sitting, or laying down. He preferred to feel like he was... nothing. "What're you doing here?"
It wasn't that he was ungrateful that his father was here; he just had no idea why he was here, sleeping on the couch. He assumed he had his own couch in his bungalow if he wanted to sleep on a couch.