Grab for her? Of course not. Enjolras would have preferred, really, for her to have shown him that she hadn't needed his help and found her way to the chair on her own. But, since she couldn't, he did not begrudge her the assist, despite how stiff his arm may have gone, when she latched on. When she released him, he took a few steps back, and leaned against his desk, taking her in.

He narrowed his eyes. Before anything else, this girl appeared to need a doctor. Whether the blood on her mouth dripped onto his floor or her own shawl, it still ran too fresh and heavy. "I could give you money, if it's charity that you're after," he offered, folding his arms and straightening, trying not to puff up too much when she mentioned Lamarque's name in accordance with him. "But I would fear whoever did this to you," he indicated her split lip, "would only take it and do it again. I have friends, physicians who could see to you. Would you like me to call on them?"