"It's worse than I thought," mutters Andrew, squinting against the light. For the first time, he's starting to get properly frightened about how hard it is to keep his head straight. Shouldn't he be recovering? Shouldn't the world have stopped spinning by now? Shouldn't he know how long it's been since he went into that pocket?

He shakes his head, then strongly regrets it. "I need -- I need the TARDIS," he insists, failing to be helpful himself.

[OOC: /fails at tagging forever. That would be fine. :)]