The Awakening (His, Not Mine)

OK, so I'm pacing around the apartment wondering what I am going to do with this guy I just knocked out and hopefully not killed. If this guy ends up not waking up, I have no idea what to do. I'm not sure I can call Janet about it at this point and for all I know, the police are not my friend.

I did make him a little more comfortable than my intruders left me. Granted, I did tie up the guy's feet and hands and left him in a stone cold bathtub, but I did give him a blanket and a pillow, partially for his comfort, but mostly to collect the small, but deliberate trickle of blood from the back of his head where I slugged him.

So, I'm pacing around like a caged animal when I start to hear stirring and moaning coming from the bathroom. I grab the bat again just in case and go to the doorway.

I peek in and this guy is struggling with his hands and feet, not quite aware that they are bound, apparently. Also, his eyes are flickering as if he is getting adjusted to the light. After a few seconds, he opens his eyes fully and gives them a couple of methodical slow blinks to focus on me. He furrows his brow in confusion and croaks:

"Jesus Christ, Michael, what the hell did you do THAT for??"