[This... is unsettling.

It isn't correct, and the young man (man? Is that what people see?) walks uncertainly down another unfamiliar street. He's avoiding eye contact as much as he can, his thoughts racing in silent confusion as he tries to piece together where he was to where he is and finds that any mental mapping he can try to bring up is hopelessly fragmented.

Eventually, Hugh stops. He takes in a breath and lets it out on a soft but audible sigh. No, he's going to have to speak to somebody. This is becoming too uncomfortable to bear.]

Excuse me. [The voice that comes out, despite the mechanical appearance of the youth, is threaded with clear emotional inflection.] I'm--... lost. Could you tell me our current location?