Andrew shifts slightly as his mass increases quite a deal more than it seems like it should given the small size of the Andrew with whom he just merged -- he'd be a whopping three and a half feet tall now if he were standing. Letting his legs flop out in front of him, he leans his head back and shuts his eyes, fighting for stability against the insistent cognitive dissonance of being two people at once. That was someone else, he reminds himself, compartmentalizing again. He'll have to properly integrate it all later, but it's easier once the memories are dulled by the passage of a few hours. And blimey he's annoying when he's bigger and insists on picking him up, and when he's littler and doesn't listen to what he's told.

Cracking an eye open, he reaches a hand out to pat Daine on the side of the face. "Just a mo," he tells her, shutting the eye again and trying to breathe deep.