*raises an eyebrow, despite the fact that every fiber of his body desperately agrees with you* Pot, meet kettle. And the fact that I look like shit is need-to-know information. *pointed look (and Eru, even a second of this normalcy is precious right now)* Ecthelion doesn't need to know.
*waves and sinks back down into his chair as his cell begins vibrating atop the desk* Get out of here. I'm busy.