[ Alec huffs a tiny, dry laugh at Olympia's nervous insistence, shooting her a not unfriendly quizzical look as he finishes getting up with (thankfully) no further incident. ]

If I fell I was going to throw myself on you, actually. Then I was planning on guilt tripping you into being my maid. [ He sighs, shaking his head, slotting his burning arms into a better approximation of a real fold over his middle. ] So much for that.

[ Not that she's not seemingly dying for him to ask her to do just that. The quavering eagerness she keeps directing at him is a step up from the raw guilt, but it's starting to chafe a little all the same.

Alec leans his hip against the edge of the table and considers his options as he looks Olympia over from a non-floor angle. The impression he gets is delicacy, a composure as shiny and flimsy as a soap bubble. If he wanted to hurt her, it wouldn't take much. He doesn't want that, but he can see it.

What he does want is for her to stop acting like there's a bomb under the floor that hasn't gone off yet. There's an imbalance here he's not getting, the way that she's apparently getting less comfortable the more things are still going, as far as he can tell, just fine.

That could be the problem. She knows he can hurt her, and the less he apparently needs her the less obvious reason he has not to. ]

I'm not going to do it again if you don't suck up to me. [ He informs her, with a nod. ] I don't care. Seriously.