The first thing you notice, even before many obvious others, is that it's cold. An unusual drop in temperature that makes the hair on the back of your uncomfortably craned neck stand at attention. One that raises rows of goosebumps on your flesh, dutifully marching upwards to poke their frigid scabbards at the underside of your jaw. An action which causes an inevitable reaction. Nose twitching, mumbling incoherently under your breath as you make a half-hearted effort to further cover yourself with your blankets, fingers curling gently around ... around, wait, wheres your blankets?
The second thing you notice is that this is not your table. Not the same color (god, you hate such a deep mahogany), the same build (though, you might hate whatever's happening in its structure more), nothing. It's a table. But certainly not yours. And whoever's table this is, you must say that it was impractical to sleep on. Or ... pass out on? God, your heads pounding.