Sharpe spread the ribbon across his palm, tidying its crumples and folds. Straightening it. And he noticed, of course, the pricks of dried blood -- all with his attendant disapproval, of course. Not that he'd be any better were the injuries reversed.

"It will only take a moment, lass," he said -- still with command in his voice -- as he stepped behind her and tried to fasten the ribbon back into place.