Thorax just looked at Handy, and he in turn simply nodded back. The pair then disappeared into a back room. The door closed, lit up with magic, and was locked, and only then did Handy let go of the breath he was holding. His glamour dropped immediately, and he gripped the stone counter, leaning against it in a pained crouch as he cradled his head. The pain beat away at every side of his mind like jackhammers, and his vision was beginning to swim. But he kept his mouth shut, not vocalising the pain and grateful for the soothing darkness of the room. A bright light would only make a bad situation worse he intuited.