Her cheeriness is quite the contrast to the almost mind-numbing fugue he’s been in for Norns-know-how-long, and the perpetual sun of summer makes it difficult for him to keep track of time by the daylight. It might have been hours, for all he knows. But his mind is slow to grind back into gear, having not expected to be dealing with people until at least tomorrow. “Uh. I don’t... whatever is fine.”

Vaguely, he’s aware that he is not being the best host, but then he did not exactly invite her in either, or give her any kind of proper welcome. His eye flicks briefly around the room at the mess, but just the thought of putting in effort to clean it up makes him feel exhausted and heavy, so he abandons the idea immediately. She’s already seen it, anyway.

He runs a hand through his unkempt hair briefly, but that’s too much effort too, so he lets his hand drop. “Do you... need anything? I’ve got mead.”