Yikes. As Buffy swayed on her feet, John pushed himself up to his own. Without thinking about it, he reached out to try and take her arm. Of course, he was also a little woozy, but his own dosage was low enough to allow decent motor skills. "Hey," he said, "are you alright?"
Which was a ridiculous question, really. Of course she wasn't alright. She wasn't alright, and she seemed to have every inclination of running off. He had to say something to calm her.
John weighed several different responses before settling on the simplest: the truth. "Well, to be fair, I was strapped into a whole load of explosives at the time. It was a message for my flatmate; long story. We could be here for observation, to check for trauma or shock." The next question died in his throat - how did you ask a young woman if she'd experienced anything particularly awful prior to arrival in the hospital?