[she grimaces like beatrice is going to give her tinnitus, and mutters out,] God, I wish you would stop doing that. [and then she listens to the hell of love that she would visit on anyone who would hurt ange, and the only displeasure in her expression is generalized towards everything else about beatrice.]

[there's fear, too. the fear seems natural; it helps her realize that the golden witch is either unstable or extremely confident, and there's no reason it can't be both. she stands there for a moment, just thinking of what to say.]

Does she want that from you? [it isn't a pointed question, and it's not trying to start a fight. no, it's because—damn it all, she recognizes herself in the frightening answer.] Because I've fucked up before. All I can give isn't everything she wants.