"Good thinking," Owen says to Faye, admittedly impressed. Though he's angry with himself for not having done the research that he should have done before this. He might've brought his own silver knife, if that were the case. Or at least, he might've kept one on him, just in case he got a phone call.

He doesn't let up, though he does take two steps back, bringing the woman with him to give Faye a bit more room, so she's not pressed against the wall anymore. The blade continues to sizzle against her skin, and Owen's tries to place what it might smell like, but is having trouble with it. It's burning flesh— he doesn't even want to think about how he knows what that smells like but just a bit different.

"And she might be a bitch, but you're the one on the other end of the knife, sweetheart," he says to the vampire, then looks up at Faye. He's not entirely sure just how long he can hold on here, so it'd probably be best if she got on with it.