Suddenly Mr. Bixby was there, his arm warm and supporting behind her back, sending heated shivers through her, while his other bunched the layers of her skirts together and lifted her behind her knees. She had never been held like this before, her mind all too aware of where his arms were, skittering at the sensations, part of her was aware of how close to his chest her head was, that she could just barely make out the thump of his heart. Her mind was so confused, so foggy, she forgot that she should be mad. Instead everything blended together as if it were happening to someone else.

She was fairly certain she didn't start breathing again until he set her down. The work table was higher up than a bench and her feet dangled beneath her skirts like a little child's. Mutely she nodded and held out her wrist for him to see. Somehow her mind already missed that he wasn't closer to her, that his warmth had settled away from her. But the pain of her wrist distracted her from spiraling further.