Guy

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 tummy also hurt. Soon, he added his rib and his kidney 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 lanky woman, or was it a man who was lanky? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He hopefully squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the khaki walls or the pearl or the coat rack. He closed his eye and moaned calmly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a dashing man carrying a whip walk into the room. The man laid the whip on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Tut-tut, looks like Mister Dodo is coming back to life."

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

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

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

"Wowsers, your questions always come in pairs?" Guy walked to the refrigerator and got a cup of tea. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied greedily, feeling a bit more decisive.

"Well, it wasn't the Church of Saint Julieann that sent you here," Guy replied hastily.

"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 whip on the table next to Guy.

"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 Guy 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 coat rack in the room. There was a wastebasket on the coat rack.

"If you're thinking about picking up that wastebasket, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Guy judged proudly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the wastebasket 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 clambered back to the bed and sat down. His palm was beginning to get sticky.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Guy. He laughed out loud, then debated "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 bat back there in the library." Guy rapped his fingers on the table beside the whip.

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

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

"Nicholas Wall," 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 shy 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 proceeding on. Nice talking to you, Guy."

Although his palm was still getting sticky, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the whip. Guy stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly disgusting manner. Ignoring Guy's cunning leer, he busily trotted out of the room.

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