She huffs a disillusioned half-laugh, half-scoff. Gift, huh? She's heard weirder things, but this doesn't sit right. She's mostly wondering what sort of people think a disembodied heart randomly sitting in a pool of blood on the doorstep is gift-like.

"I guess a bunch of people that have been to planets that turn people into other things as some sort of holiday tradition are going to be a little jaded about what constitutes a gift." She's referring, of course, to Daryl's thankfully reversed change into a werewolf of some sort. Where's the gift in that? Suddenly, she's feeling quite at home with her decision not to interact with these people more than necessary.