Helena's brows furrow, and the egg she was chewing on crumbles out of her mouth as she sits, slackjawed. It takes her a second to realise and keep chewing. Sestra Cosima is sick.

Her head tilts to the side, and when she finally swallows, she exhales heavily.

Looking between Cosima and Sarah she sips her mead, fidgety, and—

"I'm sorry you are being sick!"

Blurted out.