Very staggery progress backwards by someone half a foot taller then the squirming clavicle-owner whose skin tasted like water and salt. Like most skin, but Francine didn't exactly have tons of comparisons under the belt she wasn't wearing. Or any sense of balance whatsoever, so you can see where this is going, right? Right. It's going backwards onto the nearest bed with a great windmilling of arms, but no broken noses.

Hopefully.