The only reply Bel makes to Harp is a low, rumbling growl. Just barely loud enough to reach the angel's ears. His emerald green eyes stared intently onto the large screen as the images started to flicker. He barely noticed the others hand on top of his own, but unconsciously he turned his own, just enough to grip onto the angel's lightly. There was still a rather dull throbbing in his chest, but the more he focused on the screen, the less evident it became. 

While his eyes watched images flash across the screen, he wasn't focused on it at all any longer as his thoughts started to trail off back towards Harp. Since when did little, wingless angels become such a problem? His thoughts had not been this scattered since he had become corrupted, or well, as he had liked to put it. Is it really 'corruption' if it is done willingly? Mentally shrugging off those thoughts, he suddenly leans back in his seat, pulling his feet down off of the back of the chair in front of them. He brings his free hand up to cover over his eyes, gripping onto Harp's hand tightly suddenly. Its not that he was tired, at least not physically. Mentally he felt the strain of this magic, more than anything.

"If you get scared or need something," Bel states, "Just say so. Don't ignore your instincts if you sense something wrong." He says that before finally closing his eyes, arm still draped over his face.