"I wouldn't have expected you to clean up your own messes," she replied, voice silky. "How positively pedestrian of you." Knife still in hand, she dragged her fingers along her neck as if imagining the death he described. "I could think of worse ways to go," she said, shrugging as she let the hand drop down to hang almost casually at her side.

And then... then he had to bring up the knife, and her eyes instantly went cold. "We could have just gone our separate ways if you hadn't taken it, you know," she answered icily. "And then if we did end up in a turbolift together we'd just be sitting in mildly uncomfortable silence." This was a bald-faced lie, because she would still need an outlet for her burgeoning terror, but that was beside the point. "But I am going to get it back, and I don't care what I have to do to you in the process... In fact, I'm going to enjoy it. You have such a lovely pained expression when you're cut... And I have had it up to here with playing nice."