Simon looks up sharply and curls in on himself like a startled animal. He turns his head, squinting in the dim light for an escape route. Where is he, anyway? He can't remember how he got here.

He can only imagine how bad this looks. He's covered in blood, most of it not his, wearing only a thin cotton robe in near-freezing weather.

"N-nothing," he stammers, teeth chattering in the cold, and he knows it's the lousiest excuse for an excuse that he has.