Good point.
Not one she's going to act on though, if the glance she sends his way is any indication.

"Kill it? With what, a hairbrush?" CUE GESTURE AT ROOM because let's face it, there's jack shit in here that they can use to finish the job. Cousland is no stranger to melee combat, but even she would prefer not to have to crush a zombie skull with her bare hands.
...she could though. Crush it. Just in case that wasn't clear. It's just so damned inelegant and bits would go flying everywhere.

Whiiiiich is mostly why she isn't volunteering her shield either, innocently propped up by her chair as it is, all shined up and spotless. Could you imagine how much buffing she'd need to do to get all the ichor off if she bashed it over the head a few times? Ugh. No way, no how.

Anyway, Cousland's shoulders bob in a noncommittal shrug - pointedly ignoring the fact even her mabari, so stalwart in the face of just about any monster to tread the earth, has wisely vacated the area to hide somewhere less noisy.

"I s'pose we could just stuff it in a closet somewhere, if nothing else. Can't exactly work a doorknob the way it is now."