Ah, that expression. John's fingers shift on his crutch, eyebrows raising. Whatever discomfort inevitably stirs at being the object of such a look, John recognizes the usefulness of the diversion. Deciding whether or not to solicit assistance, however flustered the offering, feels like assessing a gamble. He certainly can't very well ask in explicit terms for books on magical theory without raising a few eyebrows.

"Would you believe I've spent very little time in a proper library?" John queries, before his gaze drops to the indicated disarray. "I can assure you, I hardly know what I'm looking for, mess or not."

But sooner or later, he'll have to decide how much it's worth to him to better understand his magic and grow stronger.

"Was nowhere in Kirkwall spared by our ghostly visitors?"