Sharon looking around under fabric
S: Who stole my fabric shears?
Morty hands Sharon her shears.
M: Here are your scissors. I had to cut some tape, sorry.
S: Excuse me.
S: You did WHAT with my GOOD SHEARS!?
M: I cut tape! I’m Sorry!
S (with fire in her eyes and the white hot intensity of a thousand dying suns): YOU DON’T DESERVE THESE!