Azrael felt a bit as though he were getting into the deep end of the pool. His head was still above water, but going any further might have him completely under and unsure of how to proceed. His nose scrunched up slightly. That metaphor had really started to fall apart in his mind. Probably a mark of his mental state.
"Your face is a perfect visual of mind," he told Duma, self-deprecation all through his tone. "You see, now, why I feel I'm so adrift."