There was no use in pretending that he was put together at any point in his day. Noah could get lost in his work with the best of them, spending hours upon hours investigating, reading and writing, forgetting to eat. He went from rushing around like a diricawl with its head cut off to not moving for hours on end. He was all or nothing, apparently.

Hovering by the door to Mrs. Darrow's office, he looked down at his shoes. "Harried, Ma'am, as usual." Noah ran a hand through his hair in a lame attempt to tame the curls, but probably only made it worse. "Yourself?" Hopefully she was in a good mood? That would certainly help him retain his position here.