Even then, it had taken him another hour to get to sleep, and the result was a pitiful three hours of rest that he'd been delivered. He hadn't felt so tired in a while. No matter where he was in the world, Oliver Patrick always made sure to get sufficient sleep. He was well aware that he was far less effective when he was operating, even on the most minor of sleep deficits.
The sluggishness filled every fibre of his being, as he forced himself out of his bed covers, and up into the cold air of the late autumn morning. He fought a shiver. A fire hadn't been lit in his room last night, given how late he had gone to bed. Now he was paying for that come morning.
"Just get moving," he told himself, throwing on a fresh pair of clothes. He would need to change again after washing, but that was a problem for the Oliver of a few hours into the future. For now, he supposed he just needed to eat something, to try and recover his energy back.
