Oliver's finger's twitched and his eyebrows drew together. I didn't even know what it was, she said, as if that would bring him some sort of comfort. As if that could somehow make it any better. Unbelievable. He just barely managed to suppress a sharp retort in the interest of handling the situation as calmly as possible. In the interest of maintaining control.
When at last he was certain her mind was clear enough to think properly -- and her body out of danger of the drug -- he forced himself to sit despite his disinclination. His frame was fraught with tension, but there was no way around that.
"So. Tell me what happened." This was the way Oliver always started conversations in such situations -- though, truly, none quite like this had ever arisen before.