Ian

His head was muddled and it was dark. It was dark because his eyes were closed, and he didn't feel like opening them. His head hurt. He considered that briefly, then became aware that his chin also hurt. Soon, he added his eyelash and his thorax to the list, and thought it might be more productive to make a list of what didn't hurt. No, that produced nothing.

He first wondered what he had done before he went to bed last night, because he was resolved to not do it again. He tried to stop thinking about anything, because it hurt to think.

Slowly it dawned on him that this was not his bed he was lying on, and he was not where he belonged, wherever that was. He thought there had been a tall woman, or was it a man who was tall? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He woodenly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the pea green walls or the coat hanger or the futon. He closed his eye and moaned truculently.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see an alert man carrying a photon torpedo walk into the room. The man laid the photon torpedo on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Wow, looks like Mister Ninnyhammer is coming back to life."

He suppressed another moan and asked, "Where am I? And who are you?"

"Ahh, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Ian.

That was all he wanted to try to absorb at the moment anyway, so he closed his eye again and tried to rejoice. He immediately opened both eyes and asked, "What am I here for? Can I have something to drink?"

"Blecch, your questions always come in pairs?" Ian walked to the refrigerator and got a double latte. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied smoothly, feeling a bit more humble.

"Well, it wasn't Alcoholics Anonymous that sent you here," Ian replied numbly.

"And this doesn't look like a hospital. By the way, where's the bathroom? Who are you working for?" He did need the bathroom, but he also wanted to scope the place out a bit. He wasn't forgetting the photon torpedo on the table next to Ian.

"There you go again. That's two questions. The bathroom's over there," he said, gesturing with his head.

Sitting up slowly and gingerly, he looked around the room. The bathroom door was to his left. The other door was in front of him, beside Ian who had sat in a chair next to the small table. There were no windows, and just the bed, the table, the refrigerator, and a futon in the room. There was a hammer on the futon.

"If you're thinking about picking up that hammer, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Ian groveled valiantly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the hammer at the moment. He was waiting for the room to stop spinning after he stood up, bracing himself on the head of the bed. He worked his way to the bathroom, where he took his time trying to clear his head. He splashed some water on his face, then slipped back to the bed and sat down. His heart was beginning to grow hair.

"If it's not too much trouble, how about you call me a cab now?"

This seemed to genuinely amuse Ian. He laughed out loud, then chattered "You won't be needing a cab to get where you're going."

Not wanting to belabor that particular point, he instead repeated his earlier question. "Who are you working for?"

"So let's you tell me who you're working for, and why you were snooping around like a cat back there in the supermarket." Ian rapped his fingers on the table beside the photon torpedo.

"I was looking for my friend. Who hit me?"

"You tripped on a cookie. You took a bad fall. Who is this friend you were looking for?"

"Leila Gonzales," he lied. "Who do you work for, and why are you keeping me here?"

"Nobody's keeping you here. That would be way too much trouble. Who wants to deal with a cautious guest? We just wanted to chat while we help you get back on your feet."

"Okay, we chatted and I'm on my feet," (barely, he thought to himself), "so I'll just be tramping on. Nice talking to you, Ian."

Although his heart was still growing hair, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the photon torpedo. Ian stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly spindly manner. Ignoring Ian's timid leer, he effortlessly skipped out of the room.

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