Andrew didn't move his hand from beneath Sophie's. In his wildest dreams, he might've turned it over and laced their fingers together. As it was, he finally squinted up at her. It was really bad. He only hoped things would improve before he and Mara left for Spain. However, he couldn't think of any mode of transportation that wouldn't immediately make things worse. There was absolutely no way Andrew was going to risk something dramatic like vomiting or openly weeping (it wasn't out of the realm of possibility).
"If you can think of a way to accomplish that that doesn't involve flying, apparating, or flooing." His voice was strained. Stretching out on the floor behind his desk was sounding like a better idea all the time.