Iona had been so buried in her work that she'd barely watched the clock go by - engrossed in case files, cross referencing data on the object that lay firmly warded away inside her safe, she had had her face buried in folders by the time Ashleigh arrived. Her hair (blonde today), messily piled up into a bun, had one of three spare quills tucked into it and her hands were covered in ink.
Looking up at her friend's arrival, looking somewhat owlish as she blinked, Iona paused for a moment, looking at her fingers and processing Ashleigh's question. Choices were something she could handle, but not when she was in this state.
"Can I clean up first?" the Auror enquired, peering at an ink stain on the sleeve of her robes.