Oh sweet Merlin's beard. With the literal pain in his ass and both his legs and lungs working overtime, Quin barely had the reflexes left to catch who he realized was a Miss Potts as she fainted. It was to be expected, he supposed, after the ordeal and the swift movement, but he was barely upright himself.

Briefly he had to wonder if this was Miss Dahlia, his correspondence partner. She had blissfully clued him in during their exchanges, but he had only recently begun to recognize Miss Daffodil as he had worked with the family for the flower show back in May, but there were still a couple more middle sisters he only vaguely could discern as Potts sisters and unfortunately this was such an instance.

That was neither here nor there at the moment and fortunately his wand was still in his free hand and as Quin gently cradled Miss Potts so she did not sag all of the way to the floor, he summoned a little cinnamon from the cupboard. Smelling salts it was not, but it was a strong, generally pleasant smell, hopefully it would do the trick?