Oscar quietly lowers the hand holding the bottled water to his side, rising to his full height behind her with his attention fixed on her as he watches her begin to stagger toward the table.

"I'm afraid so, madam."

He carefully follows after her, fearing she might lose her footing and cause herself further injury, but staying back a few steps so that he doesn't hinder her movement or risk encroaching on her personal space. This would normally be a good time to strongly encourage her to rest, but he is uncomfortably aware that time is of the essence for Miss Safronov. How much of it she has left now is something only she would know; he can't even be sure of that.