Her eyes raise, she blinks, and for whatever action that should come next - a show of concern, maybe - Sheyra doesn't move. It's a class of clumsiness she isn't accompanied to, and loud to go with it. Everyone on the train was so loud, in a way that wasn't ordinary - nor suitable - except for clients.

It's confusing, always confusing, how different people are here in more than their biology. But she recalls, with a glance at the parts of him not currently submerged inside the cupboard, how soft-skinned those of his apparent species are, and decides it's better to play overly considerate, in a way that feels offensive to the both of them, as she lowers onto her knees.

"My apologies if my presence disturbed you," she speaks swiftly, calmly. "Are you injured? Move slowly, I will examine for wounds. I will find a healer if it appears severe."

Bleeding, would there be bleeding? That's more troublesome than she'd prefer.