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Jake jolts up as he awakes, suddenly becoming conscious halfway through the day. he glances around frantically, as he immediately realizes he is not in his own house. oh fuck, had let someone take him home again? he doesn't recall last night. with squinted, blurry eyes, he gropes around the unfamiliar bed he lays in, reaching for the nightstand and trying to nab his glasses. when he sits up fully, he immediately becomes aware of both the fact that he is completely naked, and also the fact that he has a throbbing headache. oh god. was he hungover? he hisses out a groan, grabbing his glasses and shoving them back over his nose. this is always the worst part of a good night out. now he has to figure out where the fuck he is.
Now that he can somewhat see around the place, he makes a few mental notes. it was a nice room, decorated with dark colors and orange accents. orange. there's only one person he knows who is this unironically-ironically obsessed with the color. Jake immediately grimaces at the realization, his eyes going wide. he's in Dirk's bedroom.
After stammering out a few incoherent curses under his breath, Jake immediately pulls himself up and looks around, both trying to scout for the other man and find his damn clothes. or just some clothes. clothes. the room is completely silent, and through the door there seems to be no other sounds coming from any particular part of the house either. Jake sighs with slight relief, very glad he hadn't had to face his mind-befuddling friend/buddy/pal/ex/boyfriend/benefit immediately after coming to. Why the fuck are his clothes not in here?? with a groan of annoyance, Jake simply settles to rummage through Dirk's closet and steal a few of the looser threads. He tugs on a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt, trying to avoid any he remembers seeing Dirk having worn firsthand. this is a temporary fix, but he still feels a little awkward about even being here, he doesn't want to be even more embarrassed. once he's adequately clothed he walks towards the door, trying to ignore the unsightly visage that greets him when he glances sidelong at the mirror on the wall. he feels like shit, he looks like shit.... no need to rub it in, mirror. jesus.
Jake stumbles out into the hall, trying to be quiet as he wanders aimlessly. he doesn't want to run into Dirk, that'll only make him feel worse. he just needs to manage a quick little slip out a window, or something... he walks down the stairs, grimacing at each horribly squeaky step. good god man, since when were you so shit at being stealthy? after all his various escapades over the last year or so, you'd expect him to have gotten better at the running part of a hit-and-run.