"Nothing about you or this place," he responds, and his eyes skim the room again. He can smell food, something that he suspects is greasy take-out. There are two beds. The one near the door, the one he'd been sat on, has things on it that a distant nagging feeling warns are his.

"How did I get here?"

There, a good place to begin. The guy is so far not giving him much in the way of information, but direction might help. Direction might start him talking, maybe.