Just before her body hit the floor in a crumpled heap, before she dissolved into a complete state of unconsciousness, she waited for the feeling of the floor against her body. To feel the inevitable pain that would spring up from the hard surface beneath her connecting with her head.<br/>But it never came.<br/><br/>Instead she felt arms, strong arms, catching her before she hit. Her mind sent out a mental thank you, as her mind slipped under and her body was lifted. Somewhere between her feet leaving the ground and being moved, her mind went into darkness, limp form carried with ease despite being dead weight.<br/><br/>Though she wasn't conscious, her body was aware of bits and pieces around her, though in a far off proximity. Any bit that she heard seemed to have an echo, in a foggy sort of capacity. Nothing registered, but it was heard. Her awareness shifted to a yell that penetrated her thoughts, resonating through before dissipating and silence enveloped her once more.<br/><br/>For a while, she heard nothing, felt nothing. It took the familiar voice of her father berating someone. Someone about her?<span style="font-style: italic">No, their job,</span>Elisa corrected herself only to correct it again.<span style="font-style: italic">Their job <span style="font-weight: bold">is</span> me,</span>she remembered.<span style="font-style: italic">Alexander...</span>He was the one that caught her, that dealt with the fire...The smell began to fill her lungs, her senses, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she tried to force her eyes to open. Slowly at first, they fluttered open, arms already trying to push herself up, only to fall back onto the couch as her vision swam from the sudden movement.<br/><br/>"A-Alex," she started, trying to push herself up for a second time, eyes falling first on his arm, and instantly widening. "Alex, your arm..." Her voice dipped, instant guilt flooding her in the knowledge that it was her fault. "We need to get you patched up."<br/><br/><span style="color: #F80000">You need to stay put. I'm fine."</span><br/><br/>That response earned him a frustrated sigh, eyeing him in annoyance. "No, I'm not staying put. You can't protect me if you're not well yourself," she stated in pointed fashion.<br/><br/><span style="color: #F80000">"I've had worse. It'll heal just fine by itself. You need to give your body a chance to process what just happened." He said clearly not budging.</span><br/><br/>"Let me help you or you're going to become a detriment rather than asset. That burn needs to be taken care of. Now." Her voice becoming a bit more assertive, business-like, she knew she was in the right, and he needed to not be stubborn and accept the help. "How do you expect to help me with your arm like that anyhow?"<br/><br/><span style="color: #F80000">He waved his arm around. Then pulled out his blaster, before holstering it quickly. There was nothing on his face to show the action pained him at all. "The same way I would if my arm was fine."</span><br/><br/>Looking at him, her eyes narrowed. "Look. I'm perfectly fine. I was just in shock, nothing I can't handle. Momentary lapse." Raising to a sitting position, she brought her legs over the side of the couch, touching down gingerly as she let her body adjust to being upright. Her vision swam, but she held her body in place, refusing to acknowledge her issue when it was merely psychological. "You have a physical injury, something that can become infected, and looks incredibly serious. Now, to protect me, my father has solicited the best. We can't have the best if your arm contracts gangrene and we have to amputate it."<br/><br/>Leaning forward, her eyes searched his sunglasses, trying to see past her own reflection to his eyes. "Can we count on the best? Will you let me treat you? Or are you willing to chance it and jeopardize everything after what just happened?"