Betty took three alarmed steps backwards. Very alarmed steps and not only because the paint was moving off the canvas and toward the two of them like something out of a bad B horror film. Beware of the Blob and all that. No, she was also alarmed because Jeannie seemed to confirm her suspicions that she was the Jeannie on the paper. She was suppose to reap her soul, it seemed. Maybe the paint was to be her undoing and she was in fact going to die.
Maybe she'd slip on it, or it ingest it, or... Her eyes darted around, looking for gravelings. They might provide some insight as to what was going to happen next.
It wasn't until the paint moved even closer to the two of them that Betty decided she'd dawdled enough with trying to make heads or tails of her post-it and stretched her arm forward. Her hand made contact with Jeannie's shoulder in what could easily be interpreted as a friendly gesture of concern. It would seem as if she was guiding Jeannie away from the paint glob. Then she gently pulled her hand away and backed even further away, waiting to see what, if anything, happened. If nothing, she was going to have to find George and Didi and find out if they had experienced anything similar.
There was a morbid curiosity to her eyes as she watched the paint pool creep slowly closer. How truly bizarre. Perhaps Jeannie's own powers would be her own undoing. Perhaps nothing would happen at all.