"Should I have tripped someone on my way out?" he returned, glancing back through the ballroom door as though considering whether there was still time. "Sent a man sprawling into a group of conversationalists? One of them might have stumbled and knocked over a table. Maybe caught the drapes on fire with a stray candlestick." He shrugged and turned his gaze back to her, then took a few steps into the hallway. "No, I'm afraid it was perfectly boring in there. Though I was only in and out. I might have missed something."

He offered her the champagne glass and considered his next move. She wasn't hyperventilating, so that was good. He still wasn't sure where his burden of care ended here, given that he was only a passing acquaintance, and barely that. She had definitely been having something of a moment before, and chivalry forbade him from just abandoning her if she was in distress. He started to raise his own glass while he considered but caught a tremor in his own hand and stopped, shifting his weight instead. He still had hours before he needed to worry about any serious symptoms of withdrawal, but fuck — he'd much rather have been high for this.

"So are you — alright?" he asked, at a loss for what else to say or do at this point. "I could get someone if you need someone to take you home?"

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