Ringer eyes the box with vague wariness, wondering what might have been inside it to justify the labeling and his wish to be parted with it. Her mind wanders to internal organs of some kind, or a furry thing, before she dismisses the thoughts. It's not some medieval witch's lair. Hopefully it was simply something delicate which he'd rather not think about. "Thanks."

She begins grabbing her things to move from the box to the counter without really thinking about it. Aside from the brief digression, she's thinking on his words and whether she's truly depriving herself of allies. The answer is yes and she knows it, but she's fairly confident that the acquaintances she's depriving herself of are not the sort she really wants to know anyway.

"You're part of the Clan." Which, although not a particularly cohesive group, may state his allegiances or prevent him from gaining certain allies in its own right. Without judgment, she adds, "Are you more concerned with your own death or the demise of a certain group?"