He jerks automatically at the unexpected touch - it would really help if the room stood still while he was walking, because then he might feel like he's moving in an actual straight line. Unless he is, and his perception's just - unbelievably fucked.

That's actually looking even more likely.

Sam stares numbly at the other person, eyes unfocused and squinting, before he actually registers she's talking to him. Oh. Oh.

"Uh," he says, ever so eloquent. Blink. Harder blink. God damn but his vision is difficult to control right now, though whether that's the waking-up-in-a-dark-room thing, the still-sick-from-the-trials thing, or some mix of the two - or, no, yeah, it's probably the mix. Just his Winchester luck.

"Thanks." The suitcase drags unresistingly from his grip, as he's kind of lacking the necessary muscular coordination to hold onto anything right now, and he follows the woman and sinks into the proffered chair automatically. He braces two fingers on his temple, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to arrange the disorder of his thoughts into something halfway coherent.

"Do you know where we are?" he asks at last, eyes drifting until they finally remember to settle on the dominant subject. "I just woke up, um - "