"Wrong room," he says sheepishly. But- damn, Neal- he can't stop the sweep of his eyes across the other man. "Sorry... I'll just-" he makes vague motions over his shoulder with a thumb as he tries to untangle himself from the sheets. This ends about as well as one might expect for someone made almost entirely of limbs and little-to-no real coordination to speak of from all the moonshine he'd indulged in that night. Yup. He is officially on the floor in a heap now. "Ow..." he mutters, wincing slightly.