Her eyes snapped to his over her shoulder, black and empty, a smirk on her face. The knife shifted position in her hand, her arm going straight, extending out to her side. Right. Yeah. That was likely to happen.

"Or what? You'll smite me? Nice try, sweetheart, but we know all about your little handicap." She strode forward slowly, her smirk widening. "What, exactly, do you remember about that week, angel boy? What, you think it was God that brought you back? How many chances, exactly, do you think you get?" She laughed. "No. Not exactly."