Fray-Adjacent

Or possibly shortly before first period, if you still measured things that way.

"Hey. I let you sleep as long as I could, but this is kind of where you get off."

Xander blinked and opened his eye muzzily to catch a nice view of the ceiling of a luxury stretch Honda Civic. An unopened manila folder was still clutched in his hand, he noted. He'd barely functioned well enough when he got off the plane to find the arrivals desk, figure out which car was waiting for him, and crash in the back-seat while the driver loaded his luggage. Reading faxed printouts or checking his e-mail was somewhere up there with advanced physics at this point; he hadn't even been awake enough to remember to turn on his phone.

"I checked your stuff in at the hotel, but you'll have to walk on up there by yourself," the driver was saying. Xander shifted and stretched to find that the only thing in the car with him was his laptop bag, propped under his arm, and the folder. "End of the road for anything bigger than a golf cart."

"...golf cart?" That'd be about when Xander opened the door and looked outside.

He was pretty sure his driver said something to him after that. Possibly there was even a tip involved. Possibly the biggest tip the guy had ever received, or maybe a drycleaning receipt; he couldn't be sure. Xander was too busy walking and staring, a bag over his shoulder and a manila folder in his hand.

( Right about then, a few e-mails went out. Too bad he doesn't know that. )