He's been walking along beside her through the corridors. It would be natural to pull back a little when she approaches the door, to give her a chance to get inside first, but seeing the box there, he doesn't. Instead, he anticipates the request to bring the box in and is bending over to pick it up the moment she asks.

"It probably doesn't have a bomb in it," he says dryly.

What's weird about the box is that it's a little too large for its weight. A small, heavy box would be normal; this one has a few relatively heavy things inside it, poorly distributed, but the overall weight seems inconsistent.

Once they're inside, he sets it on the bed that doesn't currently have an owner, the one that had belonged to the blind roommate.