"Hmph." The pint-sized pink feather blanket managed to avoid the potentially embarrassing act of her wings being impacted by a klutz, who also seemed to be a new guy. People started talking about clones again, all she lets out is a light cough to clear her throat, and some looks around the room. These guys and their clones... She never could understand much on the biological level, a fact made obvious as her eyes glaze over gradually as the inevitable talk about stem cells or whatever crap it is that clones are based on comes about. No, machines are better. Predictable, consistent, more apt to a direct change.
Actually she's not that cold. Still mostly lost on biotech, she steps forward towards the 'new guy', bending her legs and knees very slightly in her uniform as she reached her left-then she changed to her right- arm down a little to help him up. Being so small, not much bend was needed to get her arm to a 'normal' height. "I suggest not holding your breath when stepping into a room full of people. It's an easy way to avoid tripping." Her voice drifts out, a cool murmur with a pitch of an A flat in the treble clef, concert scaling. She prepares herself to lift Mat up to his feet again, or at least his knee or something.