Tris had been about to continue her running, deciding not to add to the verbal confrontation despite her desire to give the culprit a piece of her mind for throwing out random things when people were walking. She decided she was likely on edge for other reasons unrelated to the clothes throwing and therefore she a) didn't need to take it out on someone who was clearly already having a bad day and b) probably needed to keep up running to chill out before she headed back to the apartment.
Well, that was, until something else bumped into that was decidedly not clothing
Instinctively, she reached out to help steady the person who'd bumped into her but then stiffened defensively at the woman's question. So far, she'd been able to avoid anyone outside of other refugees knowing who she really was which was helpful in that no one could tie her to her books, but she figured it was only a matter of time before that safety net was gone. Considering it logically, she figured this person must be another refugee too, which was further supported by how the question had been phrased. Most natives she'd spoken to didn't speak like that—visual logs.
Nodding once, she said, "Yes. Tris Prior. Are you alright?" She felt worse for someone else getting pummeled by the clothing ammunition than she did about it happening to herself.