Where is he?

Win swims back to consciousness with all the strength and aplomb of a man who's been wading aimlessly through an unforgiving bog for hours.

Everything around him is quiet. The first cautious lungful of air he breathes in is free of the cloying scents and the static of the sullied scent. It's a small relief after being saturated in it for longer than he cared to find out.

His eyes are still closed, and he knows he's lying on his side on the floor. The carpet beneath him is thick enough that the hardwood is not digging into the bones on his shoulders, hips or knees. But it's not nearly as comfortable as lying on the disgustingly luxurious bed in the main room.

A faint sensation on the shoulder he's not lying on, the right one, draws his attention. He flinches and opens his eyes the moment his sluggish brain informs him that what feels like a feather brushing over his skin is healing.

"Hey, hey, take it easy, Win."

He knows that voice. His blurry vision finds the owner after a few blink