She wasn't even USING her fists. She'd learned with Clint -- that hurt. Her knuckles hadn't been the same for days.

"I don't have a gun."

That was true; there were no guns or ammunition in the Barracks. Effie licked her palm and scrubbed it on her shorts. A coppery flavor spread over her tongue. She stopped the bag's gentle swinging and leaned against it, choosing to regard Sharpe with cool blue eyes.

"Besides. It's snack time."

Anything to get blood flavor out of one's mouth. Ugh.