Now that the pant fabric was away from the man's leg Malou could see the injury with greater ease, blood was gushing and the man was turning paler and paler - and still his eyes would not leave the face of his wife. His hand still clung to the dead woman's with desperation. They were the details that Malou would only notice afterward, the type of details she'd try to force from her mind, the kind of details that she'd say prayers over. They were not the type of details to pay attention to now. It was the injury and nothing else.

She nodded at the voice, her mind spinning as she thought of the options she could bind the wound with. She could rip her hem, but that was probably too dirty. Her cloak had been abandoned at the entrance so that wasn't an option. Perhaps her petticoats? But then she heard ripping and as she turned to accept the fabric she found herself staring into Faustus Prewett's face.

There was no way she would ever be able to be with a man like that, his family would hardly allow him to marry an orphan like her who worked, but (and she wouldn't even admit this to Fallon) she had thought of him since they had met. It had started innocently enough after their encounter at the symphony, just a thought here and there, perhaps seeing him again at another event, but he was a catch of the season and she wasn't. So there was no need to pretend. But then he'd shown up in her dreams, only here and there, but still. It was so unrealistic, so fabricated that Malou had tried not to think on him any further. He didn't even know she was a healer after all, surely that kind look would be gone from his eyes if he did. But now here they were, his words cut off as he caught her gaze, and for once in her professional career Malou forgot about the injured man and just saw Faustus - and she was .... relieved. Glad he hadn't been injured. And then she blushed. Because there was no way he wouldn't know what type of woman she was now.

Cheeks warm, Malou took the cloth of ripped fabric from him and tried to focus her thoughts again. She took a deep breath, straightening the fabric between her hands and focused on the task at hand. A man with a dead wife and a life threatening injury was much more important than a school girl crush. "Can you hold his leg?" She directed, less a question and more a command as her fingers searched for her reticule and her wand on the floor. She had dropped it to her side when she sank down to the ground and now it sat between her and Faustus. She didn't look as she reached with one hand, wishing for one of the nurses and the calm of St Mungo's charm ward in anccidents such as this.

"And she needs to be covered." She added, hoping someone in the crowd would have the decency to cover the dead woman from view of the curious crowd and the heartbroken man.