"Not unless closing the shades is gonna turn this white fucking room umber or someshit." He's not intending to be barbed; it's just the hangover and waking up in a strange place and, well, his customary mode of being.

He rubs his forehead, appreciating the fleeting relief it brings to his pounding head. Rubs his forehead harder. "Purge me– What the fuck's that mean? You gonna make me hurl? No thanks, lady.

"How about a glass of water?"