Oh--he was starting to re-think the assumption that she didn't seem about to keel over. Well, she still didn't look like she was going to drop dead, but he figured she might've lost enough blood to be woozy--which was still concerning. How much blood did someone have to lose before they needed a transfusion? Fuck if he knew.

"Yeah, that's fair." He might have lived in Virginia for the last seven or so years, but he'd never fully lost his Jersey accent, it was just a bit more vague than it'd been before moving to Henrietta. "I followed some chick here a little while ago but I'm still pretty fuzzy on the details of, you know, everything."

He paused for a moment, trying to figure out the best course of action here. "You should probably sit down." He wasn't sure if he should suggest a hospital or not, and if he did, he wouldn't even know where the closest one was. "The hotel's got a bunch of couches and chairs and shit in the lobby." And he didn't give a single fuck if anyone would complain about blood on the furniture. Of course, he was also hoping she could make it that far without disaster.