"Oh," Anton replied dully. A pixie. "You said that before, I think..." Take it in stride. What else could he do? He'd just been handed a bouquet of tulips out of nowhere. They were fresh and beautiful. He looked at them like he feared they might spontaneously combust.
Pressure was building behind his eyes, pain flaring white. The migraine he'd been putting off was catching up to him, inevitable consequence of the visions. His head throbbed. He could feel his heartbeat in his temples, making him dizzy. His closed his eyes and swallowed heavily against the nausea. Even the subtle smell of the tulips was suddenly overwhelming. "I'm sorry," he said thickly. "I can't. I have to lie down." And he did regret disappointing Whip who had been as upset by this whole mess as he had - maybe even more so.