Resisting the urge to reach for her knife, Helen pushed herself to her feet, watching John all the while. She refused to stoop to his level, wouldn't play with knives like he did. She preferred an arm guard and her gun, if she had to choose weapons. Unfortunately, the makeshift arm guard she tended to favor couldn't be made with what she had available, so she would have to resort to using her mind over his and hope that her body was up to the task because her clothes certainly wouldn't be coming out of this unscathed.

"That's no excuse, John, and you know it," she snarled, her voice low and threatening, upper lip curling upwards in distaste. "There's never an excuse to kill. Not the way you do it."

Helen didn't believe in many reasons to end lives, be they human or otherwise, and he knew it as well as she did. The fact that he continuously seemed to forget that and attempted to excuse his behavior to get her to accept what he did, what his very nature had become, angered her beyond belief.

Her eyes were on his knife, warily taking in every move he was making, but she was ready for him to do anything, even attempt to teleport. Making a mental note to find a way to contact Henry and get the EM Shield back up as soon as possible, she took a step back and braced herself for John to attack.