The Balladeer winces as Greta yanks out the IV. "Yeah, yeah. C'mon." He moves to offer her an arm up, and a shoulder to lean on.

"They might have your clothes around here somewhere," he muses, glancing around the room, "but I'm not sure it'd make a difference anyway." Her outfit will only last as long as this portion of the dream does. He watches her carefully as she stands. "Are you okay to walk? I can probably find a wheelchair." Knowing how this has gone that's likely to end with him wheeling her at breakneck speeds out of this hospital, but you know. That's fairly tame compared to rapiers.