A split second of reconsideration is spared when he catches onto her word and falters on it, Belladonna caught thinking that perhaps she has truly overstepped her bounds. He could have named anyone his right hand ruler and he had chosen her, but that was also a time where she had royally ******** up. When she had learned the truth, she had sought to betray him instead of question if there were another way. Their parting had been sweeter than she'd expected, but a hand still unconsciously moves up to touch the place where his sword had gone through her. Its been months, nearly a year but she still wakes feeling laden with his steel and counter betrayal.
"Deserve, not worked hard, for them." She points out, whirling to face him, one bun still curled atop her head. If this were another time, she might fancy herself a new up-do, but Belladonna is beyond thinking of her appearance anymore. What has her appearance ever gotten her when Mort is involved?
"Perhaps, but it would have meant less were the fighter honestly worth any mettle. She was weak, I let her win and got--" The witch curbs her speech because she hasn't told Mort she got over confident, that her own pride was her downfall.

"I am mad at you because you are mad at me!" Her fingers dig down against the strap on her leg that holds a pocket with a hole, useless now. They clench and pull up so she can throw this too, away from him, but still for affect.
"I did this for you! I went out and risked myself and tried to help all for you! And guess what? I failed! I came back with nothing!" One hand holds up the broken handle she had not realized she was clenching to wiggle around.
"I do not even know what this is! But maybe someone will! I... I do not know what I will do with it, maybe take it to Medea and beg her to fix it but beyond that... I've spent the past few months trying to find something to help you and I failed... And you are mad because I went alone."