The next hand has a pair of sevens and a pair of twos. He trades in the spare and picks up another two, making him have the first good hand of the night. He can't help but smile a bit, feeling like he might finally be getting the hang of this, now. And maybe the increased luck was a good sign of things to come, going forward.

His head tilts, looking over at Goody's room. The activity is over but there are people still standing around, the silhouettes visible from where he's sitting. No movement, he decides, is just as troublesome as a lot of movement. All in all, nothing about any of it looks good, actually. Nothing except Sam coming to get him and to tell him the fever broke.

At Faraday's question, his attention snaps back, eyes blinking as he refocuses.

"Stars," he says plainly. But, because it's not that bad of a story, he shrugs a shoulder and leans back in the chair. "Same constellations as back home. I like seeing them. Reminds me we're all still on the same world." He glances at the sky and sees a small window in the clouds. It lets the moon through, a few stars twinkling beside it.

"It's comforting. Or it would be." He frowns as the clouds roll back. "Rain is coming in. Ruins the view."

He shows his hand but watches Faraday instead of what he turns over.

"What do you do? Drink?"