Blearily, Sawyer opened his eyes, glancing about his hut. What a mess, he thought to himself, lips pressed tightly shut. The kind of mess that he might have felt guilty about, had he more strength to care. Clothes thrown everywhere. A floorboard or two ajar. The glint of that pistol, even out of his hands, still catching the light of the moon. He was pretty sure that there was a gourd of water somewhere, potentially next to his bed, but squinting wasn't yielding much of anything in his general field of vision.

"Think so," he said instead, rubbing at his forehead. "By the bed or... sonuvabitch." His breath passed through his teeth in a hiss. "Shouldn't make you stay for any of this."