[She stumbles back as the table is ripped from her grasp, her arms coming up in front of her protectively almost on instinct. But he doesn't aim for her, and it doesn't hit her on accident, or anything she should have been worried about.
For a moment, she also stares at Ben and what he's done to the room, before tentatively stepping toward him. She doesn't know what she can do to help--or rather, what sort of help or comfort he might accept--but she can't just leave him this way.]
no subject
For a moment, she also stares at Ben and what he's done to the room, before tentatively stepping toward him. She doesn't know what she can do to help--or rather, what sort of help or comfort he might accept--but she can't just leave him this way.]