You'd better not! The last thing I need is a ghost at a charity picnic, haunting the potato salad!

[Unconsciously, she clasps her hands together tightly as Claude prepares to drop. She can't blame him for taking a long time to let go. This is a mad idea. If she had another five minutes, she'd have come up with a better one, but she didn't. And if it does kill him, he'd have a right to haunt her along with everyone else.

She can't breathe when he finally does let gravity take hold. Bits of clothes go flying as he lands with more than a simple thud. The sound of a breaking bone shoots through her heart--my fault--and yet it seems to cut something loose.]

Hold still. Okay? [Her steps are brisk as she moves towards him, snatching up a long scarf and a broken spar.] What was it? Your leg? Your arm?