Carol's punch landed with a loud whump a half second after Namor vocalized his observation. Angry was one way of putting it. Angry. Guilty. Frustrated. And dread. Namor wasn't who she was hoping for to find her there, maybe he was looking for a fight. She'd give him a good sparring, because hitting things was making her feel more like herself. It made little sense, it'd appall her sponsor, but it was over a year and her sponsor was long out of her life. She didn't say anything to his comment though, because he already saw what she was feeling.
She hit the bag again, not necessarily ignoring him, but enjoying the tensing of her muscles when they made contact with the leather. "No," she said though the lie was there. Something didn't really happen, but something was going to happen and she was already filling in conversation with her father of what she came to expect. Steve dying gave him reason enough to call her life choices poor and she should've just gone to school to get a marriage and family studies degree like he suggested originally.
"Nothing to concern you, your highness," she said with grit teeth and struck the back more. The punches were more intense and the new chain was already starting to creak. Bits of sand pushed through the seams but only a few grains. It would take a number of more punches for her to take it down again.