"No," she says, coolly. "Sometimes it's bullets."

Which would be more personally insulting if she let it, but mostly bothers the part of her that drills others on gun safety as much as she can.

"You don't have to go. I'll get someone else to unlock the door so I can work on my tan."

She waits a moment, but it's just a stone this time, clinking to the deck. She kicks it over the side.