Now, it's his turn to look a little surprised; the idea of being in the hotel's registry already, being expected, is flattering and disconcerting in equal measure. He may not know why he's here, or much of anything else at all, beyond his name and a few vague, flickering impressions of whatever life he'd had before, but someone else does. It's knowledge he already wants to gain, or more accurately regain, for himself.

For now, though, he'll take Cecelia's advice. "After another glass of water, then," he says, as the waiter arrives with the sundae in one hand and a condensation-beaded pitcher of water in the other. "And, thanks again for the help."

He tries some of the ice cream--only to grimace and set the spoon back in the dish immediately before reaching for the water again. "Christ, is that just pure sugar?" Maybe he doesn't like ice cream after all.