Upon slamming his bottom into the hard surface of the cheap wooden chair he now sat in, Andrew was jostled awake from his unconscious slumber, resulting in a terrible headache and nausea due to his apparent concussion. "Ugh," he whined, and twisted in his seat, gripping his head. Once he'd managed to open his eyes and survey his surroundings he realized he was, once again, within the confines of Sam's Tavern, back where he had started his relatively fruitless night. "Shit," was all Andrew could manage to say at the moment, writhing in pain as he attempted to stand up. As he took a few aimless steps, he came into range of a few fellow werewolves, one of whom included the familiar Kalib, who he guessed had helped him back into the bar, judging by his distance to the chair. 

"Kalib," he muttered, attempting to grab the man's attention.