Faelan shrugged, tossing the crisps aside, which he'd found under a pile of papers, a muddy shirt, and a dying leaf he was trying to practice his rejuvenation skills on. A pair of his jeans stuck out from under a pillow, piles of balled up, barely started sketches littered the floor and he didn't know the last time he'd taken a real shower. He was really lucky he had a lenient boss.
Flopping down on the edge of the divan and staring at his folded hands, he said, "I'm managing fine." He knew he was isolated, but even in the best circumstances he'd never been good at socializing. He wasn't really sure how he was supposed to reach out again.