In your care. Murderbot chose a career in Trench wherein the only violence is on screen. It hasn't gone hunting on purpose. Flinging itself across the beach in the first few days it was here wasn't a career move but dumb instincts when seeing a human in danger. It's done what it can.

It's still responsible for a human, an injured adolescent age human that ART would like. Ugh.

"Great," it says without enthusiasm. "Try not to die."

Murderbot turns away from its injured companion and continues in the direction they've been going. "What's your name?" it asks because despite having a feed with uniquely identifiable addresses, there's no public feed IDs associated with them. Nothing comes up, looking at this person, to provide whatever their society considers basic information. Universally, that usually includes a name.