The tank’s sudden lurch caused Wiggy to bang her head against the cupboard’s top, with the result more a mix of pain and stars than falling chocolate much to her dismay. She instantly opened her mouth to curse only to hear the word “Sunovabitch” replace her own. “Frankie,” she suddenly thought as pain gave way to concern. With a swift shuffle backwards, she thankfully found her spikey haired friend safe and sound and already kneeling beside her, only this time she didn’t squirm so much as gape in shock. It hadn't taken her long to catch sight of the fingers that Frankie was nursing which caused a rush of horrific possibilities to come racing through her mind, all the way from sliced clean off to snapped in half, even if either scenario was highly unlikely.<br/><br/>“Forget about me,” she chided abruptly in response to the mechanic’s question, “What about your hand!” As gently as possible, she reached out and took Frankie’s arm in both hands before suggestively offering it a light tug. “Let me see, please, is it badly hurt?” She wasn’t sure how seeing the hurt digits would help other than allaying her own irrational fears but was intent on at least trying to help. Wiggy was already blaming herself for the incident as she attempted to coax Frankie’s fingers from her mouth. On any normal day she would never have suggested a boiling pot in a moving vehicle and yet she’d once again allowed her hang-ups to drown out her own judgement.