Her lips pursed, though only for a moment—people who were fine did not need to sit down. Somehow, though, Poppy doubted he would allow her (or any woman) to escort him to his seat; doing so would demonstrate the sort of frailty men seemed so repulsed to exhibit.

"Well," she offered awkwardly, with very little option otherwise, "I think that would be for the best."

She could, at least, mark where he sat, keep an eye upon him during the bout.