"It was a rather large goose." Dahlia admitted sheepishly at his profuse apology. Although, really, she was rather mortified to have swooned and caused such a scene. Goose or not.

He had a nice chuckle, Dahlia thought as she watched the cinnamon return to its home. "Preferable to smelling salts." She mumbled. Not that she'd had many experiences with any of them being waved under her nose - well there was that one random time when she had insisted her corset be tightened too as small as possible at a dress fitting... but once was enough to know that she certainly prefered cinnamon to smelling salts.

And then the attention was back on her, and Dahlia was still held up in his arms, feeling entirely foolish - and still a bit out of breathe. "I'm alright." She started, and then, because perhaps the truth would make her seem less foolish, "Just having a tough time catching my breathe." It felt shallow and tight in her lungs. "I can stand though." Or at least she was determined she would stand. "But something to drink would be lovely." Anything but hot chocolate would be lovely, but it seemed rude to add that. "Water?" She found herself asking, looking up into his face to try and read his expression.