Attagirl. Hey there. [He's quick when she opens her eyes; he knows how to be quick, how to triage and trust his gut. His currently stone-heavy gut - it's been months since he's felt the therapeutic, familiar burn of anger geared towards protecting someone he loves, instant and cauterizing; it's still present now, but banked against having no target - that drops with relief when he hears her. He nods, and shifts one hand up to cover her eyes again, as though he can shield them from light and somehow help as much as another version of the touch he uses more often than anything else to comfort.]

Alright. Let's get you back into your room, yeah? I gotcha. C'mon. [He'd take her to his cabin, and part of him thinks of the blessings and protections he's laid down inside of it and wants to, but it's not like they're actually helping. It would still make him feel better. But hers is much closer, so that's where he glances when he shifts his center of balance to not just hold her, but prepare to help lift her up to her feet.]

You'll be alright. We'll get some ice and some meds down you and see what it does. [He'll lift her himself, if he has to, chestcold be damned; this is what he's for. What good is he if he can't do this.]