That comment earns a short, inscrutable look from Frisk, who had previously been peering around the warehouse in an effort to plot out their path. They seem remarkably calm, and really they do feel much steadier than perhaps the situation warrants. It might be silly; real bullets won't be as easy to dodge as magic ones, and they can't hurt a human just by wanting to really hard. But they look at this, and they think about Flowey and Asriel, and it doesn't seem all that scary in comparison. They're only little humans, one soul each, just like Frisk. And Frisk doesn't want to hurt these people anyway, so that part doesn't even matter.

Their hands are loose at their sides, ready to grab what they need to. They can take some of the crates as long as they're on the wheely carts. All those loose scalpels and things, though, would do much better scooped into a Dimensional Box instead of being carried loose. Those first, then the crates.

Their phone is already set to access the empty box, and they're used to getting those open in a hurry. Their golden locket is around their neck, for all the good that'll do. There's not much else to prepare. So they bounce lightly on their heels and turn their attention back to Silver, waiting for the signal.