Reed gave a sympathetic smile when she explained how Kristoff came to her defense. Really, he wasn't a rotten boy. Actually, if it weren't for Doom, Reed might even have been rather fond of him. As it stood now- he could appreciate his intellect and talent and knew him well enough to say that he liked him; though never to his face as he could only assume that being liked by Reed Richards, his father's sworn enemy, would amount to the highest insult. But he had a good heart and a smart (if not entirely wise) head on his shoulders.
And Reed knew what it was to be bullied. Like Maxine, he had been bullied and picked on for a very long time, until someone bigger and stronger with more backbone and confidence stood up for him- and though Reed had long ago learned how to stand up for himself- his best friend was still doing the very same thing that he'd started all those years ago. And now Reed had the chance to stand up for him as well...
He was almost grateful to be pulled out of that selfish line of thought- though less than thrilled by the actual circumstances. Reed didn't do so well with crying, panicking women. He got up quickly and circled the desk to crouch beside Maxine, his mouth set in a hard frown, though it wasn't intended for her. "Deep breaths, Maxine. Inhale through your nose, exhale through the mouth." He instructed, stretching his arm back over the desk to grab his lab coat and draped it over her shoulders to try to alleviate her shivering-- not that she was cold.
"Do as I do." He said sternly, leaving no room for argument. Making a show of breathing deeply, Reed dropped his hand from her shoulder to take her hand and gave it a squeeze, resting his fingers on her wrist to check her pulse and sat beside her, breathing with her, until she'd calmed again.
Which gave him ample time to gather his own thoughts.
"It was a very brave thing you did, Maxine, to stand up to Doom. There aren't many people in the world who would, who could. Victor von Doom is a tyrant, a dictator-- those who stand up to him or in his way usually don't live very long." Though there were a handful of notable exceptions, four of whom happened to live in the Baxter Building. "Any defiance of Doom, perceived or real, is treated like an act of war, even down to the smallest accident. It was a very brave thing, to risk yourself trying to save someone else- a stranger, no less. You weren't weak, you were strong." He told her, albeit a little awkwardly- but that awkwardness faded after the first few words were out.
"Any one doing anything to you that you didn't ask for and didn't want done is a violation-- including taking your blood. These are the ethics that we, as doctors and scientists and decent human beings, live by. What he did to you is in no way acceptable, or normal. It isn't a reflection on you, Maxine. It was nothing you did, not because of what or who you are. You are not broken, or damaged in any way."
Reed paused and took a breath, not wanting to overwhelm the girl any further. "Maxine, I'd recommend that you speak to a professional about what's happened. I can give you the phone number for a very good psychiatrist, who I see myself on occasion. Susan and I will cover any medical costs that are accrued. You can still come to Susan or I with any problems you're facing, as well..." Reaching back to his desk, Reed flipped through a small meticulously organized box of business cards until he found the one he was looking for; one Dr. Leonard Samson.
He held the card out to her, looking very shy for a moment, but offered it to her all the same with one decisive nod, tapping two fingers to his graying temple. "Our minds are our power, Miss Hunkel, our weapons and our defenses. Uncomfortable though it may be, I for one will do what it takes to protect it." He fidgeted with the edge of the card, wondering if it was some kind of breach of employer/employee or teacher/student etiquette to admit personal weakness. "I'd like to help you, if I can." He supplied finally, then added after a few long moments...
"And, when you're ready, perhaps we can talk about these nanomachines."
Because science was far more comfortable a subject than psychological trauma.