After the lecture hall, and the guy with the gun, and the worst possible headache, there's -

Cam wakes up on top of a made bed, in an airy room with square beams of wood stretching across the ceiling.  White linen curtains blow gently in a breeze, blocking the view out the window; the covers under him are made of the same material, and neatly made.  He's dressed in the least uncomfortable suit he's ever worn, complete with well-shined black shoes.  If he checks, the spot of duvet under where his feet were is lightly dented from the heel but completely clean of dirt.

The walls are white plaster above wainscotting in wood, a few shades darker than that of the ceiling and floor, except where they're instead a door in the same material.