She had only been kidding when she said he broke her, but she was never one to pass up an opportunity. Struggling to her feet with his help, she played the weakling and acted as though it bothered her more than it did. In truth, the pins and needles had gone away and she could probably prance down the stairs without tripping right now. Shaking her head solemnly, she played a mixture of faux courage and injury. “No. . . I don’t think I’ll need a healer. I will be alright, but all this excitement,” she had read this in her books - especially in melodramas or comedic plays - the ladies often acted overworked and overwhelmed by the smallest of incidences. She fanned herself as she continued, “Once I get outside, I will be okay. But,” she pretended to limp forward, then pressed a dramatic hand on her forehead. “The door is so far. . . You go on without me. I will catch up.” She paused for a moment before glancing over her shoulder, and holding out her arms in the universal symbol of, ‘piggyback!’
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