It’s purple paint, yeah.
It looks like you tried to write a book last night. You can’t really bring yourself to read past the first page.
The orc is breathing. That’s a good sign. You peek under the bed.
Is that… a pineapple and a yoyo? Oh gods, it is. So much for a good reputation.
You attempt to tailor the bedsheet into clothing, receiving an unpleasant reminder that you have no trade skills. You really should find some clothes though, before someone shows up.