Felih nods quietly. "Yeah," he murmurs. "That's me." There is none of his usual vim and vigor, none of his preening or vain pride at being remembered or recognized. None of his chirping and flirting- he's just tired, the exhaustion sinking its claws into every ilm of him, showing in the dark bags under his eyes, the way his frame is beginning to get slightly gaunt.

Yellow-gold eyes look listless, and he cannot meet Khamu'wo's gaze.

"That's not the important bit," he responds simply. "I just- I need the information. I can even search myself, just- just point me in the right direction. I know you're probably busy." And since when does Felih not pester people for attention, regardless of busyness?