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Belle wondered for a moment if he was lying to her when he questioned her answer.  She pondered the idea of him knowing Rumpelstiltskin at all, though he did seem to have some correct knowledge about him.  She resisted the urge to cross her arms across her chest, finding it rather condescending.  Perhaps condescending was the best way to treat this stranger.  

Her face paled as Killian admitted that Rumple was the cause of his wife's death.  Her lips parted to counter his claim yet the words died in her throat.  Was it possible?   Her husband had done many a terrible thing during his time as the Dark One.  Hot shame slipped over her at her lack of faith in her husband.  She frowned, annoyed that this man had caused her to doubt Rumple.  "I hardly believe that," she responded.  She took note of his serious tone.  

He seemed quite convinced of the fact though Belle had a hard time believing it.  "I don't know what history you and Rumple have, but it doesn't justify the slanders against him you are making."

Belle's eyes narrowed slightly as Killian baited her.  She felt that it was disrespectful to pry Rumple for details about the death of his first wife.  She was aware that he'd loved her, as they'd produced Baelfire.  He'd given her few details about Milah when she'd inquired about his deceased wife during their courtship.  All he shared with her was that his wife changed one day during their marriage, though he loved her despite the change.  

"I didn't wish to disrespect her memory by asking," she countered.  "He loved her; I imagine the wound must still ache."  Part of her also feared that he would always compare her to his first wife.  She knew he'd loved his wife, but she was afraid that he'd hold Milah up on a pedestal.  She couldn't be further from the truth.

"I suppose from a sickness. Like I explained to you, I didn't press him."

Belle felt her lips tingle, having felt the brushing of his fingers against the tender flesh.  Again she was reminded of how intimate the act was though she supposed it meant nothing.  She estimated that the pirate must still hold a torch for Emma despite her being with Neal.  She felt her heart ache for him; his first love had been killed before his eyes, and his second taken away.  She briefly wondered why both she and Killian weren't awarded the happy endings that nearly everyone else in the town had.  She felt that they both deserved it.

She chuckled at his question.  "I suppose it's only fair," she teased, shifting her grip on the bottle.  She tipped it to his lips, holding it for him.  After she set the bottle down on the desk, observing the liquid.  "It's odd, isn't it?" she asked.  "I thought...I thought we were supposed to all find our happy endings.  But it seems to be a lie rather than a promise."

A frown marred her features as she thought over the idea.  She realized belatedly how morose it sounded.  "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bring down the mood," she chuckled, raking a hand through her hair.  "It's just been on my mind for a while."  She moved back to the desk, hefting herself up to sit atop it once more. 

Belle watched as he uncorked the bottle before approaching her.  She expected him to hand it to her or even take a swig himself.  Instead he held it close to her mouth in an offering to tilt the liquid in.  Normally she wouldn't entertain such an idea.  It seemed terribly intimate, in her opinion.  Yet the buzz of the already consumed alcohol dampened any embarrassment she may have had.

Carefully she opened her mouth for him, accepting the liquid.  Once she had enough she placed a hand on the bottle to tip it back up, swallowing the alcohol.  She took a deep breath after, realizing that she'd kept her eyes steadily on his as she'd drank.  She was aware that her cheeks must be tinged pink, most likely from the consumed alcohol and from the flustered feeling he was inspiring in her.  She found that she didn't mind it at all.

"That's better," she noted, glad that they hadn't thrown the full bottle.  The tequila would have been annoying to clean the next day from the wall and floor.  

Belle looked back at the mess that the bottle had made, faintly realizing that she had to clean it up later.  She figured that was a thought best saved for another time.  She looked back at him when he spoke again, her breath catching in her chest as she took in their proximity.  She'd never been overly friendly with men before.  As a noblewoman she'd been shielded from dalliances that a peasant woman might encounter or pursue.  Her betrothed, though egotistical, had not placed her purity at risk during their engagement.  The only time she'd been intimate with a man had been during her courtship and brief marriage with Rumpelstiltskin.

She vaguely recalled him speaking, realizing that he must be waiting for an answer.  Not wanting to appear a simpleton she strove to come up with a reply.  Her eyes alighted on the second bottle.  "Well, it would be a waste to ruin a perfectly good, full bottle," she grinned, looking back up at him.  She moved to retrieve it, giving herself the chance to take a deep breath in order to clear her head.  She held it out to him to open as he seemed to have opened the previous one effortlessly. 

Belle felt somewhat woozy though she rather liked the feeling.  It was easier to keep her mind off all that had happened if she was concerned with the burn of alcohol down her throat and not sliding off her desk.  She peered at him with curiosity as Killian requested that she get up.  She stood, holding onto the edge of the desk slightly for balance.  She took a small step toward him, feeling a little dizzy at the movement.  

"Throw it?" she repeated, a crease forming between her brows.  She observed the empty bottle in his hand.  She was rather tempted at throwing the item.  She imagined it would feel good to cause destruction; no one would get hurt, no feelings bruised.  She took it from him, her fingers brushing up against the skin of his flesh hand.  She wrapped her fingers firmly about the neck of the bottle, looking down at the contrast between the glass and her painted nails.  She looked at the wall, rage filling her as she considered all that she'd been put through.

Hefting the bottle she stood to watch as it collided with the wall.  It shattered upon impact, making a satisfying crunching sound.  Shards of broken bottle glass fell to the floor causing her to smile in glee.  The simple act made her feel better than she could have imagined.  

"How did you know that would help?" she inquired, turning toward him with a rather excited grin upon her lips. It felt good to release some of the emotions that had been building up.