He sneezed again. “Jesus, you keep a cat in here or what? Standish, you got tissues in that bag?”
Hoisting the bag in question on to her knees, Catherine unzipped it and took out Lamb’s gun, which he’d placed there while she was dressing. The safety catch was clearly marked, and she snicked it off before pointing the gun at her chosen target.
“We all know I’m not going to shoot you dead,” she told Webb. “But I’ll put a bullet through your foot if I need to. And that’ll wipe the smirk off your face, won’t it?”
“You two can walk home from here,” said Lamb. “If that’s all right.”
— Slow Horses (Mick Herron), Loc. 4612–8