Well, that's new. He woke up as usual, ran a hand over his face to see if stubble had started growing in yet (it hadn't, he was still as 'smooth' as the day he got here, which had struck him as strange a long time ago; normally when he goes this long without shaving, people start mistaking him for Santa), and was heading toward the fridge for breakfast when his intuition pinged; something was different, possibly wrong. Looking around, he soon found the source of the change: The huge motorcycle lodged in his doorway. He's sure he closed it; how did it even get there? Regardless, examining the thing tells him that he can't get around it; perhaps if he weren't so broad....

But the same broadness that keeps him from getting out past it is what gives him the strength to move it on his own. Dislodging it from his doorway with some difficulty, he then pulls it upright, onto its wheels, and starts walking it down the hallway, planning on leaving it in the lobby where it won't get in the way while he decides what to do with it. He's not much of a biker (bicycles yes, motorcycles no), surely there's someone around here who can make better use of it.

However, when he comes upon the stairs, that plan becomes a little more complicated. He looks around, possibly to see if there's anyone around to help him; how's he supposed to get this thing down the stairs without damaging it? He already dropped it once while getting it out of his doorway, he just can't toss it down the stairs.