(I'm assuming that my character is in...)
Cifero woke up as Fout made noise, rubbing his eyes. "What in the...?" he muttered, standing up and pulling on a pair of shorts over his boxers. Walking to the center of the room, the crat stared up at the grate, wondering what the hell was making all that racket. Either way... It's something different, he thought, continuing to dress himself as he stared up at the grate. Glancing in the mirror, Cif straightened out his tank top so that the hem was even with the top of his solar plexus and threaded his knife sheath onto his belt, refraining from pulling his knife out for the moment. After washing his hands, the crat gently flew close to the vent and rapped on it with his hand. "Hello?" he called out quietly. "Anyone there?"