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One does simply kick and/or shake Tate Hwang and get away with it, nosiree, and if Tate was in any state to do... well, anything, really, he would have started shouting. Words, possibly. Maybe throw a punch or two here and there.

Of course, he wasn't. He wasn't in such a state. As it was, he was just barely able to open his eyes. He shifted, slowly, painfully, as if he wasn't used to being in this body. Eventually, he managed to roll over and sit up. His vision was swimming, his mouth felt so dry, and he had a killer headache, but at the very least, he was alive.

Maybe.

The jury was still out on that, given his surroundings.

It was hard to think. In general, sure, but also in this very moment. Tate tried his best. He did a mental headcount, noting that besides him and the three others with him, no one else was around. The town had changed considerably, now. Whereas before everything just seemed subtly off, now it was completely different. Nearly unrecognizable in every way except the physical layout.

"Guh..." he managed to say.

He didn't know what was going on. He blinked, looking at the three others. He recognized them... kind of. They were at the common area where tromboy was. There was still that little speck of a thought in his head that this was still a prank, but it was getting harder and harder to believe it by the second. He shakily stood up.

He was scared, and he was confused. And when Tate is scared and confused, he gets angry.

"Alright, you..." he said, the words feeling unfamiliar in his mouth, "you all have... five seconds... to tell me what's going on."

Standing at his full height, Tate would have been an intimidating figure if it didn't also look like he was fighting a wicked hangover.
[hr][sub]Tate looked to the guy ([@CriticalHit]), then to the girls ([@Lugubrious], [@BCTheEntity]), awaiting an answer that was probably not forthcoming.[/sub]