You tell him that, honestly, you've been better.
You squint against the pounding in your head and try to get the lay of the land. You're in a room. Square, bare walls, cement floor. This is not the kind of room guys are liable to come out of once they go in, and from the expression on your new friend's face, he knows that as good as you do. In fact, you used to do a bit of work in these kinds of places yourself. Not professionally or anything like that; you aren't one of those maniacal yahoos who can't get their rocks off without sticking a pin under someone's fingernails. But your boss occasionally needed someone persuaded, and you can be damn persuasive.
And speaking of your boss...
Before you can fall too far down into the dumps about it you get an eyeful. A brackish, lukewarm eyeful as some mook tosses a bucketful of water at your head. You inhale some up your nose. Fuck, that smarts.
What was that for, asshole? He tells you to rise and shine. You tell him you're already awake. He says you don't look it. 'Cause if you was awake, you'd be talking if you know what's good for you. You ask, talking about what?
