[Noah awakes just as he'd been when he'd fallen asleep. On his side, one arm resting under his head. A pistol barely touches his arm, having been under the pillow (always sleep armed, kids). He's wearing only a pair of grey pajama pants. Many scars cover his chest and arms, old bullet wounds and knife blades.

[He's not pleased when he wakes up. It's not the church. Not the castle. Nowhere he's ever been before.

[Perhaps God has seen fit to send him where he belongs. But--there are others here. It has to be the city itself.

[Noah sits up and rubs his head.]

Bloody hell.

[There was nothing for it. He stood up, noted his gun out of the corner of his eye, and took it with him to take a look around.]