Lesgle is even more confused than Joly when he wakes up. On the one hand, he feels hung over. On the other hand, he's sure he wasn't drinking last night, at least no more than ordinary. On the other other hand, synthehol shouldn't leave a headache no matter how much he'd had. On the other other other hand, what the hell is synthehol and why did he just ask the computer what time it is?

...It's not a hangover, anyway. A little more time with the headache and the stuffy nose and the cough and the misery refreshes his memory of yesterday's godawful cold. He sits up and pulls the blankets around himself and stares in lingering confusion at the ceiling and walls. There's a pile of gadgetry on the table. An insistent voice in his head is telling him to get back to work on contacting the Enterprise, but it's not a useful enough voice to tell him how or why.