Watson, being a soldier himself, recognized the urgency in Zoe's movements before she'd even reached the table, much less slid across it. Unfortunately, he'd been too caught up in her words - space, Alliance, and some language that sounded a little like Chinese. By the time he was moving, he knew it was lost; Zoe was across the table and in the spork-wielding patient's face.
John weighted his options - he could vault over the table, risk injuring himself in his drugged state, and probably fail to intervene, or he could go around the table and definitely fail.
He chose 'around.' It quickly became obvious that he'd made the right decision; there was an elegance to Zoe's movements. She knew what she was doing and she used no more force than was strictly necessary. Still, Watson gaped. He'd met enough sane people in that place that he'd forgotten there were mad people, too. At the moment, he wasn't sure what side of that line Zoe was on.
"He was trying to use a spork as a shiv?" Since there was little he could contribute - Zoe had the man well-restrained - Watson moved over to deal with the rocking man. "Hello," he said, softly and with his hands held before him. "Hi. I'm John." If there were no signs of aggression, he'd begin to crouch. "I just want to check and make sure you're alright. May I do that?"