[The waking up is easy. He'd done it most of his entire life, until recently when he didn't have to anymore. Then it was difficult. But this felt like every other day of his life before it wasn't really his control anymore. But walking out of the cabin, Jon knew immediately something was wrong.]

Martin?

[They'd just been together. They were talking, they were holding each other, they were-

Well. One of them was in worse condition. Jon still looks in worse condition, shirt and clothes splattered with mud and blood. But the life jacket and card are odd; exactly his particular brand of odd. So he's clutching the (at the moment) useless life jacket in both arms to his chest as he makes his way up to the deck, looking around for any sign of anything familiar or known to him.

He'll stop the nearest person, though, whether that person looks like they just woke up or not. This poor man covered head to toe in different scars and hideously worn clothes looking all the world like a caged animal trying to get his bearings.]

Excuse me, I'm sorry. I'm- I just was somewhere else and - Have you seen a tall, broad ginger here? Answers to Martin?

What...

[He looks up as the chandelier seemingly appears out of nothing. It wasn't there before, not twenty seconds ago and Jon can't seem to pin down what exactly caused it to arrive here in the dining hall. For anyone watching, the man who has yet to change out of his blood and mud-caked clothes is standing perfectly still staring right up at it.

That is until he suddenly jumps back about ten steps before the thing crashes with a yelp.]

Are you all right? Christ...

[Jon is standing in front of the shop and... Not entering, but he looks mildly displeased. Or maybe that's just his face. But he still looks unhappy about it. No Martin, still in his current condition, no sign of His Particular Brand Of Problems so far.]

I see otherworldly ships are not quite immune to nonsense.