Jean is not positive she wants to acknowledge this, but words like those keep coming out of his mouth, and that has to stop. "Okay, you -- "

Words. She has them, and they solidify as she squats down, enough to let her hand float a second before deciding that hesitation is just not going to work where it comes to the face of insanity. Her hands settle on his shoulders, and she's pulling without any more warning than he gave her, to begin with. "You need to get up now."

But as she's dragging him up, there's an off flicker of warmth that slides up her arms (and maybe even a shift in the tempo of a guitar being played by someone standing on the bench not too far away). Not the sharp, fast one, but something smoother, softer, almost ... sympathetic.