Room 227, Wednesday morning

Wyatt woke up and peered blearily around, momentarily confused and having no idea where he was. He was on the floor. Not his floor. His head was throbbing and his stomach was definitely rolling.

He pushed himself up and tried to look around. When he spied the empty bottles and glasses strewn about on the floor, some memory started to return. Anders. Bridge. Ambrosia. Space vodka.

Bridge and Anders were in their beds and his clothes were still on. That much was a comfort, at least.