The remark is just another twist of a blade already embedded, further damaging her emotional state. She manages to keep herself from flinching, from showing off hurt—the last thing she wants is for It to get any satisfaction, from her pain or Mello's.

"You're free to come here," Sharon is quick to reply, opening one arm out partially as if to beckon him to an embrace, but in her other hand is a dagger, openly shown. She would drive it deep, under the armpit, at just the right angle to hit the heart. Or maybe she would go under the ribs. The leather vest she wears, with its trio of bullet holes in the chest, feels heavier now and more poignant than ever given what she must do,"I'd just love to give you one."

He won't, though, and she briefly pulls her gaze from the possessed to Jo. The other woman looks like she could handle herself, holds herself with enough confidence that Sharon knows that, between the two of them, a demon in a skinsuit will be nothing. Except for the pain that will come after,"How do we wanna kill this fucker?"

Because, Demello, you don't get a say.