*...* *okay, so is officially perplexed, and not much liking what he's seeing/hearing (but Glorfindel loves you, drunk or no, idiot or no)*
*slides off the stool and follows you into the living room, and if he's feeling less than professional, it's probably because he's in a t-shirt and sweats and you just slept off a drunken crash on his couch and neither of them has even shaved today, much less put on their Official Faces*
*leans in the doorway, arms folded loosely, making no attempt to help you get around just yet (though your things are all very neatly in view)* *phrases his entire question in the space of one word* Ecthelion.