It's not that she doesn't want to scold him for those terrible odds, but that she would prefer to do it when he looks less as if the force of her annoyance might tip him over—

“Marcus is in the air,” she says, steadying him with her hands at his waist, “he'll be minutes only. I've made our excuses and apologies, and not panicked anyone. You did beautifully.” Which is true and merits saying, entirely apart from his vexatious ability to present his recklessness with himself so wonderfully reasonably. “How do you feel?”