[Days of being trapped within the ritual chamber, at the mercy of his thirst and his exhaustion, of his doubts and those of others, have left Liem pale and drawn. Deep shadows ring his dark eyes; from the withered, haunted look about him, he likely hasn't had a drop to drink or a wink of sleep since he arrived.

His only concession to appearances is the poise that he still clutches to, as though by standing straight and moving carefully, he can hide the worst of his strain. So it is that he approaches Byleth (or the god in Byleth's body) with an approximation of his usual genteel manner, despite the air of defeat that follows him like an echo, beyond even his ability to rein in anymore.]

You seem unlike yourself, Mister Eisner.

[He observes it neutrally, regarding the god with Byleth's face with wary curiosity.]

I did not think to hear such complaints from you, especially in these circumstances.