"Since he arrived," Minerva didn't have to follow his glance, or even move from her chair, to know who he was speaking of. "He must have been exhausted. But you might think he'd wake up and offer some counsel." Not that the portraits, she'd discovered, were of much use. Likely he'd wake up and ask for a bowl of lemon drops to be painted in with him.
Finally she stood, waiting for Remus to come in properly and sit. Looking him over, he looked a bit worse for wear, and she wondered what the news she'd bring of Snape's betrayal would mean for him, in the long run. She couldn't make herself worry overmuch on that account, though. They had larger problems at the moment.