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As loud and rattling as his fist against the door was, Belladonna did not flinch. Her hands tightened on each other, her ankles crossed to keep from clicking her toes together and she drew herself in just the smallest bit, but she did not flinch away from the sound or him. Mort's anger was not something new to her, nor was it something she deigned worthy of pointing out by reacting to it. Instead she only watched him, mouth drawn tight.
Patiently she waited for him to come around to exactly what it was he had done, and when he realized what it was, Belladonna gave one soft nod. I'm sorry darling.
"What was I supposed to say? How was I to stop you? 'Mort, don't give your card to this siren she might not be who she says she is'? Do you know how awfully that would have gone?" It was a bad move, but the witch slid from the bed and took a tentative step toward him. "Do you know how difficult it was to keep a straight face? To pretend I didn't know what was going on, but still ask her questions and keep her revealing herself?" It was the wrong thing to do, the wrong course to take but Belladonna just couldn't help herself getting mad.
"You weren't there for the first part! When she talked of Israfel as though he were still alive, gallivanting around easy as you please. You weren't there when she spoke of him so nonchalantly in front of Yin and Amphi."

Now that she had started, it was rather hard to stop. Instead she waved a hand through the air, as though smacking the little particles would make this all better.
"I did the best I could! If I said anything, she could have done any number of things and for all that she was incredibly kind." It was an off hand comment, one she didn't quite understand fully. But when Mort questioned her further, the witch only bristled a bit more.
"I didn't tell her anything! Which was probably why she was being so secretive as well. It was my own fault for being cautious, and I couldn't get any clears answers out of her. For all I know she really was a consort of his. But I just cannot believe it with the way she spoke of him in the present tense."
Unaware of exactly how angry she looked, the witch only stared up at Mort, eyebrows drawn down in her own anger and frustration.

"I could be wrong!" Belladonna piped up from below Mort's angry gaze, her own refusing to soften despite her words. Yet when he told her about no kind Hunters, she did stop talking.
One part of her, perhaps the part where her light was most intense, where she was still naive and believed that love could conquer all things and that willpower was enough to win a fight, still believed that there was at least one kind Hunter out there. That maybe, just maybe, they weren't all bad. Maybe someone had been tricked, been cajoled into thinking this was the right way. The witch had heard how Sol had spoken of Israfel, as someone kind and sweet who made her feel special. How could that thinking be applied to a creature of the same world, but not to its brethren?
But it was useless to state this, as Mort would have exploded further. When he turned away, the witch let out a soft cry to watch out for the foxfire, but it was too late. Already she'd gotten underfoot, almost made things worse. With a wince she watched Lanna run off into hiding, and could only turn back to watch Mort pace angrily.

There was nothing she could really say, nothing she could really do. Already she had lost whatever it was she had been hoping for with her confession. There had been no praise for ingenuity, for her bravery in sticking it out or even for her detective skills. With a huff she crossed one arm under her chest and glared at the floor.
"They didn't really ruin anything... And its not like they succeeded. If anything, we've gotten the upper hand. Sol seemed really gullible, like she really wanted to be our friend... So maybe if she contacts you, we can... I don't know..." The witch trailed off, dismayed at her own thinking. Lure her in? Sol was a person, not some animal that needed to be trapped. Even if Belladonna knew how dangerous the Hunters were, she still just could not understand how killing more of them would fix anything. It was ridiculous for anyone to think that it would help.
So she just let her thought go and continued to stare at the floor, one foot pulled back so she could idly tap it against the floor. It was something Hemlock did when on the phone, as well as when she was trying to lie. She was terrible at it, but it was still a habit the witch picked up. If Belladonna pretended to look busy, even with something as silly as digging her toe into the ground, maybe Mort would forget this... Maybe he wouldn't continue the awful thought she'd begun about the maybe Hunter.

Still concentrated on the floor before her, the witch missed the slow change in Mort's expression. It wasn't until she looked up from staring at the ground for so long, feeling odd in the quiet. She was startled by the grin, enough that she took a step backwards. This was not the time to be grinning, nor even looking any other emotion besides particularly distraught in some way shape or form.
Suddenly aware of him, Belladonna followed his eyes toward the little index card on the bedside table. Instantly curious of what was on there, the witch concentrated her gaze on the little words written therein, trying to decipher what it said. Why was his gaze so intent on that card?
But before she could say anything, even ask about it, her hands were grabbed and a kiss placed to her mouth as she turned back to Mort. A slice of horror cut into her as she realized exactly what it was Mort was saying. Not only had this been turned from a place of trust, but into something dark and wrong. The way he was speaking was how Hunters thought, they kidnapped people and and tortured them.
Yet she couldn't say that, it would make this whole thing far worse. For a moment the witch only stared up at Mort, mind racing as she tried to figure this out.

In a flash the witch's face had contorted into something hurt and angry. Both hands flew up and pressed to his chest, pushing him away.
"No!" She almost shouted, needing this to sound far worse than it was going to be. For one moment she needed to make him think this was going to take a path different than it was. "I'm so glad to know that even if this was a Hunter, and not just me overreacting and being paranoid, that you're only concern is whether or not you can exploit them. Its absolutely wonderful to know that when I could have been in the midst of danger you didn't even bother to worry about me."
It was dirty and sneaky, but the witch was going to guilt trip him if necessary. It'd been awhile since she'd done such a thing, and it hurt to actually turn such a vice on her own love, but this was not something Belladonna was prepared to deal with. She was not going to listen to him speak of such horrid plans anymore.

The cold that covered her hands made the witch momentarily paused, made her reconsider what she was doing for just a second. But it passed quickly and she instead little her face crumple into something sad. There wasn't any faking in that, but the real reason behind it was mixed. On one hand it really did hurt that Mort had completely dismissed every other possibility she'd presented him, as well as turning this situation back onto him and his cause. At the same time, the witch simply could stand to think that maybe Mort wasn't quite as kind all the time as she'd thought.
"You say that, but what if we're wrong? What if she really was just a siren?" Her hands closed around the front of his shirt and she momentarily gave a soft tug. Not even certain what she was angry about anymore she could only stare up at him with a defeated look.
Anywhere she stepped from here was a trap, everything she said could be turned against her, would make him angry or make things worse.
"I just don't think... I just don't think this is the right way. I just--"

It wasn't fair that they were always seemingly pitted against each other, never on the same side. With a wilted expression the witch leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his chest.
"Mort, what's written on that card? What other opportunities and measures have you thought of?" She kept her voice low, her hands still pressed against his chest.

The compromise was taken immediately, as the witch hastily nodded up at the boil, finally letting her head rise to a normal level. It wasn't going to be a full fledged test, especially for anyone who wasn't a student yet, but Belladonna refused to even mention that. So long as this conversation could be done and over with, moving onto something else altogether.
Granted, the next topic of conversation wasn't much better. The witch felt him tense under her hands and looked up just in time to see his face relaxing from something she hadn't caught a good enough look at to understand. For a time she watched him, curious to learn what it was until he spoke. What she had hoped was something innocent instead continued to keep getting worse and worse. A small noise of uncertainty was her immediate reply before she let her face crumple further.
"I-I'm sorry, I--" Once again she couldn't find anything to say, couldn't think of the proper words to make this right. "I did not realize--"

Once again the witch pressed her face back to his chest, a heavy sigh falling from her.
"I do not think the line is that small if you are keeping a list. But I am sorry that you have to keep one at all..."
It wasn't a very good apology, not even one she could really fix with an apology, but it was the best she could do. In a way of helping, she took her hands off his chest to wrap around him. With a small kiss to his heart, she tightened her hold on him.
"And its not stupid. Not at all." Naturally, Belladonna meant all of the options, but could only hope that he understood that.

For a long time the witch just stood there, her face pressed into his front and let herself breath in his scent. Ever since she'd named the taste of his skin as particularly salty, she couldn't get the smell of the ocean out of her nose whenever he was around. It was faint, so much so that she could miss it if she wasn't concentrating, but right now she was so close it engulfed her. With her eyes closed she could almost hear the water crashing against the black sand, and even though it was the wrong moment to feel it, Belladonna couldn't help herself as she felt incredibly safe and secure.
For the moment it was nice to just stand there and breath and pretend things weren't nearly as bad as they were, so the witch didn't even bother to speak. Naturally when Mort spoke first she took her time in answering, still a little far away in that ocean smell.
"Not everything is wrong." She mumbled as she pulled her face back and tilted her chin up to look at him. "This is right, we're right." She clarified with a small, sheepish smile. It wasn't very much, or even very good, and it dripped with cliched sentiment. But the witch didn't take it back, or even look abashed at her words. Instead she let her smile strengthen just a little as she shrugged in his hold.

"And there's nothing wrong or messed up with it. Its a coping mechanism and that's better than doing nothing." She offered softly, in a voice that understood the strange things one did to cope and get by. They were hardly ever 'right' or even very good for oneself, but so long as it was enough to help that person push through, they were tolerated.
As for her treats, the witch let a small laugh out as she shook her head.
"I am afraid they're a long journey back to my room, which would involve going back out. Its probably best to stay here."
Here she paused to straighten up a little, though it didn't really make her any taller. "It isn't as though everyone will be expecting you to be out and about anything time soon. Everyone will most likely sleep for days!" Belladonna chirped to him, her smile fully back now. After a moment she only looked up at him before she tilted her head to one side, as though she were offering more than explaining how it would go. "But if you are looking to for love, I am afraid you'll just have to do with my affections for now."
Though it was difficult to maneuver pressed so close to him, Belladonna managed to be up on her toes and place a kiss to his mouth.

A little, lilting laugh was all the witch could give before she was raised up, pink eyes meeting green ones. The moment felt as though it would stretch out into eternity as the witch relished the odd sensation of her feet leaving the ground. It wasn't something she was used to, not in this capacity at least. Having her feet lift off was all well and good when it was of her own accord, but even when it happened without her doing it still made her stomach drop in the most exhilarating way. The grip on his waist was quickly repositioned to around his neck, where one hand found the back of his head and fingers wove themselves seamlessly into his hair. The other clutched at his back, one small anchor in the world.
"Most excellent." Belladonna murmured before she handed herself over to him, glad for a variety of reasons she was not yet prepared to name. And as he kissed her, as her arms tightened around him and as she felt herself begin to drown in his saltwater smell, a feeling rose up in her chest. It grew to enormous proportions (or perhaps only something seemingly large to a very small ghoul), enough so that the witch feared Mort could feel the particular hammer of her heart and guess what she felt before she'd had the distinct pleasure of telling him.
I shall tell him soon. Very soon. Belladonna thought as she pulled back for a breath, face flushed.
Or else I shall die with the untold burden of loving him.

Another laugh escaped her as she pressed another kiss to him, at the perfect level in which to do exactly as she pleased. Not that any lack of height, or anything else for that matter, had ever stopped her before. But perhaps flushed with the realization and decision of her own love for this boil made her less afraid of rejection.
Whatever the reason, Belladonna only continued to smile in the most blissful of manners. A small feeling tugged at some outlying part of her, perhaps her feet or the very edges of her long, long hair. A tiny feeling of worry and woe, yet unfulfilled but waiting, clinging to the witch as she was content to press kiss and hugs to her dearest Mort. But with such feelings blossoming within her, she completely ignored the feeling, completely dismissed it altogether. Perhaps when the warning came to pass she would remember such a moment and regret her natural intuition and her ability to so heedlessly ignore it.
But when she was so happy, when Mort held her as though she were the most precious creature in the world, there was nothing else Belladonna could think of but her singular love for him and want of his happiness.