[ It's somewhat alarming, waking up in a house that isn't his, with no clear memory of how he got there. But despite that, Jefferson seems okay, even with the dehydration and the mild headache that causes him to scrunch up his face and cover his eyes with his hand. There's a bit of grumbling and groaning, dramatics that nobody but Jefferson (and the cameras ubiquitous to every building in town) is privy to.
Glancing at the bedside clock, he can see that it's well past when he usually gets up, so he might as well get dressed and return home-- well. Return to the motel for a shower and a change of clothes before stopping by his shop. It's not even that he needs to be there today, but... what else is he going to do? He has nobody or nothing else to occupy him. And, as he remembers more from the night before, he knows he made enough of a fool of himself already. No need to impose on Brock and Kenzi any longer than necessary.
Luckily, it looks like he tried to strip as he stumbled his way to the bed, so his clothes are easy to find in a rather obvious trail from the door to the mattress. Wrinkling his nose a little at the ensemble-- a hoodie? He must have been truly depressed yesterday-- Jefferson puts it back on piece by piece, though his scarf and coat aren't anywhere to be found.
Must be by the front door, he figures. He wonders if that means they saw his scar, realized just how truthful he was being when he called himself damaged goods the other night. It was kind of them to deposit him in the guest bedroom despite that.
Though a little bit dizzy, he tries to keep as quiet and stealthy as possible as he starts to make his exist-- though not before stopping by the guest bathroom to quickly rinse his mouth with astringent, minty wash and attempt to salvage his hair from the bedhead he woke up with. He can hear activity in the kitchen as he makes his way down the stairs, and there's a pang of guilt in his gut as he feels even more like an intruder on the happy couple. Best to head out the front door before they notice. It'll be the least awkward for everyone.
ACTION; the morning of March 18
Glancing at the bedside clock, he can see that it's well past when he usually gets up, so he might as well get dressed and return home-- well. Return to the motel for a shower and a change of clothes before stopping by his shop. It's not even that he needs to be there today, but... what else is he going to do? He has nobody or nothing else to occupy him. And, as he remembers more from the night before, he knows he made enough of a fool of himself already. No need to impose on Brock and Kenzi any longer than necessary.
Luckily, it looks like he tried to strip as he stumbled his way to the bed, so his clothes are easy to find in a rather obvious trail from the door to the mattress. Wrinkling his nose a little at the ensemble-- a hoodie? He must have been truly depressed yesterday-- Jefferson puts it back on piece by piece, though his scarf and coat aren't anywhere to be found.
Must be by the front door, he figures. He wonders if that means they saw his scar, realized just how truthful he was being when he called himself damaged goods the other night. It was kind of them to deposit him in the guest bedroom despite that.
Though a little bit dizzy, he tries to keep as quiet and stealthy as possible as he starts to make his exist-- though not before stopping by the guest bathroom to quickly rinse his mouth with astringent, minty wash and attempt to salvage his hair from the bedhead he woke up with. He can hear activity in the kitchen as he makes his way down the stairs, and there's a pang of guilt in his gut as he feels even more like an intruder on the happy couple. Best to head out the front door before they notice. It'll be the least awkward for everyone.
Just... where's his scarf? And his coat? ]