"Aaaaugh, my heaaad..."

From the tall weeds to one side of the field came the tortured moan of a man who'd had a long night. Some light rustling followed, with a few high clinks hinting at the presence of glass bottles. The rustling abruptly stopped as a blue helmet poked through the top of the veil of weeds.

Shakily, the helmet continued to rise. A muscular torso immediately followed the helmet, attached to it via a thick neck. Small red marks decorated the now-visible upper body of the helmeted man, likely a product of thorns somewhere in the weeds.

The helmet looked left, then right, then up, searching to get a bearing. Finally, the visor zeroed in on the motley group forming across the field from it, and the helmet and torso began to sway unsteadily through the weeds toward those gathered. As it reached the edge of the patch of weeds, a pair of legs, equal in build to the torso and likewise scratched, became visible. So did the pair of light blue boxers patterned with pink hearts that adorned them.

Fully revealed to the world, the shabbily dressed figure continued upon his path toward the group. He seemed to be slowly getting steadier upon his feet as he approached, but no improvement seemed imminent for his wardrobe.