She was clearly hurt. He was out of the chair like a shot--nevermind if it fell, he would feel horrible if she did--with an arm under hers before he really thought about it.

Maybe she wouldn't want his help? She could hit him for it later.

"Here," he said, "is it bad? Can you stand?"

They'd sort out the blankets when she was safely resting.

He glared at the carpet. If he could have, he'd have burned a hole in it with his eyes.