Walk to hotel.

You walk down the narrow streets, adopting a skulking gait and teeth-baring, feral grin so that would-be muggers might believe you're one of them and leave you alone out of professional courtesy. Everything is going according to plan until suddenly, an out-of-breath man staggers mazily from the shadows and into your path.

"Excuse me, but, but can you direct me to Lee-eye-sester Square?" he pants.

You can:

Say, "That's LEICESTER SQUARE", you ignorant yank!

Try to walk right through him, pretending he doesn't exist.

Say, "Sure, it's three blocks that way", pointing in a random direction.

Smile, shrug, shake your head, and repeat a few foreign phrases you remember from the opera.

You notice that in one hand he holds a painting wrapped in brown paper. His other hand is occupied trying to stop an ugly knife wound to his leg from gushing blood everywhere.