Sullivan's face contorted into a frown when the woman opened her mouth, but couldn't seem to speak. Yeah, she must have been hit hard for her to be that weak. He was about to stand up and look for the source of her injury, when he felt two small hands curling around the bottom of his shirt. He quietly gasped, and froze for a moment, uncomfortable with the contact. He breathed a sigh of relief as she let go, feeling his muscles relax. He'd never been comfortable with unsolicited contact, especially from a total stranger.

He picked up her hands, briefly holding them aimlessly. They looked tiny in comparison to his oversized paws. He quickly pressed on her wrist, checking her pulse. It was comfortably steady, but that didn't stop him from checking her pulse every five seconds. It occurred to him that it sort of made him look like a random pervert who knocked a girl out, and proceeded to hold her hand. He laid them back in her lap, looking around to see if anyone else was there. The park was still empty. Damn.

He stood up, pacing backed and forth briefly. How did she end it here? People don't fall from the sky, but that seemed like the only explanation. No, that was too weird. Everything should be based on logic and fact, not superstition. His legs were getting tired. He sighed, becoming rather irritated. She took up the entire bench. He lifted up he head and sat down, before placing her head on his lap, tilting it back slowly so she didn't swallow her own tounge or something weird, but plausible. If this persisted, he would phone an ambulance. But still, having the woman lie on his lap was sort of nice. Relaxing almost, even if the situation was absurd. He found himself pulled away from his reflection to find that he hand started to mindlessly stroke her hair. He turned red, quickly removing his hands, suddenly feeling more awkward than before.