That's not something he expected to hear. He almost fumbles the pill bottle in his hand, shooting the source of the voice an incredulous look. It isn't a voice he immediately recognizes, and it takes a moment for him to place the face; his memory's still hazy around the edges, stalled from the lingering effects of hideous bar binges, exhaustion, stress, thoughts of China. But the realization ultimately hits him with enough force to send him mentally (emotionally?) reeling, and he's absolutely feeling the holy shit factor.

......"No."

Not no as in 'no, not Chris,' more like no as in 'what the fuck are you doing here?'