Numair was curled up beneath the covers, face buried in the pillow, and didn't stir until a gust of wind came in through the window above his head and caused the curtains to flap. He groaned a bit and, very slowly, turned over.
It seemed to take a lot of effort to sit up, and as he did a stab of pain in his torso caused him to grimace, wrapping an arm around himself. He looked up blearily, and it was a moment before he registered where he was.
With an unpleasant jolt he got a look at the room around him. Sunlight was coming in through the window above the bed and through a glass door to the left; the room was empty, the door shut. Alarmed, Numair tried to scramble out of the bed, but missed the edge with his hand and slipped, falling headfirst onto the floor with a loud thud.
For a second he just lay where he fell, holding his head and cursing quietly, one foot tangled in the covers. As he shifted, though, his left arm caught his eye. It had been bandaged carefully, and his sleeve had been rolled up. He inspected the bandages, slightly puzzled.