He surveys the pinkish steak dubiously. Right now he doesn't feel capable of keeping down anything, much less a hunk of raw meat. Thanks, hotel. Sam is so very grateful.

"Maybe." The tablet is nestled in among the rest of the necessities, and it's not hard to figure out where to press to get it to whirr to life. "Guess that makes this the 'communication device'."

Which raises all sorts of new questions to go with the plethora Sam already has. It's unnerving, to see parts of his life laid out in a suitcase, compartmentalized into an anonymous room, presumably so he could wake up here and...what? Was he sent here with any sort of purpose in mind? "Wish someone could tell me who 'they' actually are."