The sound that ripped from her throat was a guttural snarl, and if she wasn't over two millenia old, she probably would have stamped her foot. She wanted his death, she needed it, this was her duty, it was her right. At least, in her mind.
"No," she snapped. "You aren't, thank the gods for that." She could feel her eyes flashing, and she would have said something else, but in the hand that wasn't balled into a fist, a fine tremor had started up. The urge to stay and fight it out was starting to evaporate. So she swallowed an irritated noise and stalked off, her copper hair trailing behind her.
As she got further away, the song grew quieter in Jesse's mind, and he blinked a few times and looked around. "...What just happened?" he asked.