Ben's pulling his weathered notebook from his pocket, intending to leave a proper thank you, when he sees her (doesn't he?) across the room.
Rules be damned, his hand twitches over his holster.
She's bloody and battered, on fire, lit by that spun-gold magic Ben's hoping like hell will keep her safe until he can help —
But when he crosses the bar, she fades further away, looking damn near spent.
Rib cage tight, his eyes lock onto hers.
"You remember you've got somethin' in your favor. Those vampires, they're already dead. They want to kill you, but you want to live, Rae. That's some powerful motivation you're holdin' up your sleeve."
Eyes never leaving hers, he tips his head toward her, conveying what he can't articulate any other way.