She went down, and he moved with the speed, the accuracy and grace of an angel of death in motion. The hand on her hip, right hand, slipped about her entire waist with the arm. The other, with a needle embedded in teh back of his hand, cupped the back of her head as he dropped to his left knee and right leg went low and wide to the side, offering balance and space for her own fumbled legs, as it brushed them out from under her. The leathers of his armor groaned in protest of hte strain, yet his mucles did not, as he held her aloft, in what to onlookers seemed a romantic dancer's dipping motion. "Are you, all right..?" he asked, in that haggard tone of a voice...<br/><br/>For an awkwardly long time, he did not move... and once finished speaking, he stopped breathing...<br/><br/>((Um, just a heads up, but he -never- breaths, unless he's doing it to force air over his vocal cords.)<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>