Pat's head was swimming. His body had switched into some kind of standby mode. All of his senses were extremely muddled, his vision was nothing more than colored blurs. Pat knew in a few minutes he would be fine, or at least functioning. It was the same every time but that didn't really help when you were in the middle of it. With his body pretty much froze nothing else to do, other than mentally brace against the waves of pain he felt assaulting him, Pat took the time to curse his migraine's bad timing. Why did it have to happen in the cafeteria? Had it happened ten minutes earlier, he probably could have recovered in time for breakfast and no one would be the wiser. In the cafeteria someone was sure to notice and he was in no state to come up with an excuse for his odd behavior. Pat had previously vowed to try and keep his migraines a secret, he didn't know what the Reformers would do when they found out their "superhero" was actually disabled. It didn't look like that was going to be possible anymore. A sudden touch on his arm snapped Pat, at least partway, back to reality.

Pat's vision had cleared enough that he could tell someone was in front of him, but he was still unable to recognize who it was. He heard the person say something, but it was completely incomprehensible, as if Pat was hearing it from underwater. Even though he couldn't hear him, he had a pretty good idea of what he probably said. After all, this wasn't that uncommon of a situation. Pat tried to muster up some kind of generic response, but he wasn't quite fit for talking yet so it came out as an uneven mumble.

"I'm... fine. I'll be fine in a few minutes."