It’s when Mary tries to crack her knuckles for the third time in 15 minutes does Seth finally have enough.

“Mary.”

Her head jolts up, eyes wide, and that’s all he needs to know that something is wrong.

He sees her try and crack her ring finger. He shoots his hand out, grabbing a thin wrist, and glares.

“Stop.”

“Sorry, am I annoying you?” Her leg is bouncing, and her gaze, while mostly on him, flickers around the room. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“You’re not annoying me, but you are worrying me.”

“Cracking knuckles doesn’t cause arthritis, it’s just popping bubbles in—“

“You’re rambling.” She’s blurting out the words, so different from her usual, measured cadence.

“—Sorry. I’m fine. Nothing is wrong with my fingers.”

“I know nothing is wrong with your fingers, but there’s going to be if you don’t stop bending your fingers without cracking them.” He presses his thumb to the pulse in her wrist, feels it beating rabbit-fast. “What’s wrong? Don’t lie.”

“Noth—“ he glares at her. She tilts her head back, looking at the ceiling. “It’s stupid. And I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.” It’s a command, and he feels her pulse jump before starting to slow down.

“I…” she purses her lips, “feel like I’m floating away. But not in a good way. Like there are pieces of me floating away and I can’t concentrate and my head is empty but like an echo—“

“Ok.” He lets go of her wrist to close her laptop and a small whimper comes out of her. She immediately tries to crack her wrist.

“Stop.”

She freezes.

“Hands on the table, flat. No touching anything. Stay there.” Seth stands up and her eyes go wide.

“Don’t go, please don’t—“

He grabs her face and kisses her lightly on the forehead.

“I don’t know how and I don’t know why but it sounds like you’re dropping. I’m going to pull you back together, ok? But I need to get some stuff. Count back from 20. I’ll be back. Be good and stay still. Can you do that?”

She nods slowly.

“Count.”

“20, 19…”

He leaves, walking quickly to their room and getting Mary’s ridiculous fluffy blanket that makes him sneeze sometimes, then goes to one of the drawers under their bed to grab soft, red velevet rope.

He returns.

“…2, 1…”

Her hands are flexing on the table.

He squats down in front of her.

“Can I have your hands?”

She all but shoved them in his face, leg bouncing frantically.

He presses them together before squeezing her wrists. She relaxes a little bit.

“I’m going to tie your hands, ok? It’s the soft rope, and not tight, just snug.”

She considered for a few seconds before nodding. He ties the rope, making a big, pretty bow.

Then he grabs the blanket and wraps her up in it before lifting her up and heading to the couch and lying down on it, arms wrapped securely around her, his legs bracketing hers and tightening.

Her arms are pressed to her chest under the blanket. She’s effectively trapped in the softest way possible.

Seth presses his lips to her hair.

“Let me know when you float back to me, darling mine.”