Sandbags. She is literally stacking sandbags against the coming flood. If religion could find a place to stick in her, this would be pretty damn hilarious. In a wrong kind of way. Clint would find it funny. Which, all right, not the best metric for judging these things by.

"Hey, Beanpole. Keep it moving." The man she knocks with her shoulder is not actually moving that slowly. In fact, he's working very hard. As hard as anyone there. He's slowed down a tiny bit, but he's still busting ass. He looks thoughtful and far away, maybe contemplating the things he's left behind. It should be a point for her to empathize on with him, but it just makes her angry. She needs to hold on to the anger. She doesn't have much right now, and something needs to keep her moving forward.