Between the hours Alex worked, his dreams, and the Week From Hell, Alex was, in a word, exhausted. Now, with a quiet house, Alex had fallen asleep on the sofa while watching Tiny Toons. It was a rare dreamless sleep, a nap that lasted all of fifteen minutes before the banging and shouting began.
In an instant, Alex was on the floor, his heart in his throat. He glanced around, trying to get his bearings, having to remember that he was at Leon's, that his own place had been destroyed in the earthquakes.
Sleepy and grumpy, Alex stood up and went to the door to look out the peephole. One of Leon's friends and one of the many pretty blond girls who came round. She'd probably been there at Superbowl, he'd likely even shaken her hand, but he couldn't remember which one she was.
Alex groaned. Annoyed and shirtless with sofa pillow marks on his cheek and his hair matted on one side, he opened the door.
"He ain't here," he informed her. "Is there something I can do for you?"