She should have anticipated that. Oh, well. Hiding another smirk because, honestly, the situation is still very funny, she obliges and very gingerly sets Murderbot back on its feet. The tendrils once used to support its weight withdraw into the larger mass of her hair and then the darkness cloaking her body starts to dissipate. It is not an instantaneous process - the mana peals off of her like ink and seeps into the air around them like vapor, taking with it that alien warmth. Her hair is once again only that, hair, and as her former likeness is restored, the smile on her face is faint, but warm and inviting.

"There you are. Still in one piece and not on fire." A wisecrack mostly meant to reassure it that no offense was taken. "You are alright to stand? I can offer support, if you still need..." Despite the offer, Mel'arnach did not immediately crowd back into Murderbot's space - she didn't want to hover over it if physical assistance was not necessary, lest she seem overbearing. Perhaps she was fighting the mothering instinct in her.

When Murderbot expresses skepticism at her age, she laughs a little. "Or so. I have been alive for a very long time," she says, staying ambiguous because even she lacks a precise memory.