V makes it a point to ignore the indignation of the other, snuggling deeper into his coat as if it would somehow help him get back to sleep. He was growing more aware as he heard Alec move toward the door and then struggle with it. That was irritating - how hard was opening a fucking door and leaving? The demand cut through V's still half-asleep stupor and he groaned. It didn't matter how well he'd slept, he still was someone who hated leaving bed.

"Fuck, how hard's opening a fucking door," he mumbled as he sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to the stranger and the door. He rubbed his eyes, then dragged his hands down his face (something about his hands and his face didn't feel right), and then spoke up. "Imagine we're in the No-Tell--"

He stopped short as he finally looked at the room he was in. He stood and turned to look at the stranger and the entrance to the room, visibly confused. This place was definitely not the No-Tell Motel. Wherever he was now was clean and tidy. A bit dated, maybe, but it wasn't skeevy. V had no clue where the fuck he was and that made his hackles rise. He also had never seen the stranger he was stuck in here with. In an unconscious movement, his hand came to rest on one of his guns. He was looking Alec over, trying to assess danger.

"No clue where we are. Who the fuck are you?"