There's a flash of odd familiarity, though it only lasts a second. Any impression of Coulson certainly fades as soon as Fitz hears that accent. There's an unintentionally pointed glance to a particularly conspicuous bloodstain on the front of the man's shirt, then Fitz meets his eyes again.

"I have pain medication. Or I know where to get some, if you need it."

From a slightly frightening woman that he's already loaned it to, but details. There should still be plenty left. And as much as he hates to pry, the possibility that there's a threat in the hotel — one more immediate than the obvious, low-burn eeriness — makes it difficult to just keep walking.

"Um." Great start. After a brief hesitation, "Did it happen here? In the hotel."