Lovina fell back from him as she was finally, mercifully released, looking over him with terror as he turned himself around to groan at the wasted food on the ground. She backed up quickly, disappointed that he still had the knife and not her. Only when he had his fill of being pissed at the spilled pasta did he turn to her again, causing her to catch her breath again. He held out his bloodied hand again, growling his ultimatum. Lovina just glared at him as coldly as she could manage while he turned and stumbled inside.
Once he was gone, she let herself breathe again. Dio, she needed to do something about him. She spent a few moments cleaning up some of the largest pieces of broken plate before opening the doors cautiously only to find the captain passed out on a bench. Completely out cold. Despite her still racing heartbeat, Lovina found herself with a tiny smirk gracing the corners of her lips. Grazi, Dio. She wouldn't have to go through the trouble of drugging him now. All she needed was some rope.
Wasting even less time than before, she rushed around the chapel to a broom closet, finding some lengths of rope. "Feli!" she called, her voice echoing faintly around the cavernous room. "Feli! Get over here!"
Her little brother peeked out several moments later from behind a pew. "W-what is it Sorella? What's going on? Who is that man? Why did he try to hurt me? What's wrong with him? Did he-"
"Shut up and help me!" Lovina snapped, undoing a rope to begin tying him up. "I'll explain when I have time, but right now you need to shut the fuck up and do something!" She tossed one over to him, ignoring his squeals as he failed to catch the stupid thing. She got set on tying his ankles up, beckoning her brother over to help turn him over carefully so she could bind his wrists behind his back. Getting the unconscious man upstairs proved to not be fun, as the siblings were not renowned for their strength. It was a struggle, but the managed to get him up the stairs. The second he was there, Lovina ordered her little brother away, practically shoving him down the stairs. She set to work on securing him to the bed more, not wanting to take any chances on him this time. She had his arms and legs secured before she could breathe easily again. At last, she would be remotely safe around him. The girl took a moment to rest before daring to leave him alone for a minute to gather what she needed for him. Hard as it was, she would need to pretend that he was just another unfortunate soul that needed treatment – at least that's what she used to convince herself with as she gathered food and some aforementioned medical supplies. Bringing it up to the room where he was still out like a dead candle, she forced herself to work, stripping back his tattered shirt as best she could to find and treat his wounds, which she was somewhat shocked to find many of. What the hell happened to this bastard… She grimaced and started doing her job, cleaning and bandaging wounds with as much gentleness and care as she could muster up for the man. Which wasn't saying too much, but it was something.
Being knocked out cold had its advantages; for starters, it kept the Mediterranean native from feeling the unpleasantness of constant hunger pangs as well as the poor way he was handled when he was dragged up the stairs by his far too kind hosts. If he'd been awake, he would have openly thanked them for their care. As if. Even in his dreams he could feel the discomfort when a pair of too rough hands and another, much more hesitant pair touched the wrong places under his clothing where cells struggled to close the nasty gashes scattered around his chest, clumped with dried blood, surrounded by an angry-looking red tone where salt served to irritate the skin further. He wasn't awake to witness himself being bound to the bed, and the moment his back met the mattress, the remaining discomfort faded completely for what he could only guess was a couple of hours.
It must have been that, and so much longer, because the moment he woke up he expected to be greeted by the pale colored walls of the church, not by a dusty wooden roof. Nor did he expect to be unable to itch his nose when he was certain a bug of sorts had decided to use it as its new home. Instead, the rattling of a bed frame sounded throughout the empty room, followed by another, more desperate series of rattles when Antonio realized he was rendered immobile. Growling under his breath, the green eyed man flashed his eyes across the room for any signs of life. Had he been left there to rot? Had he been captured? No, the faint fragrance of Lovina's perfume still lingered in his clothing, the air generally wasn't musky if only because the window was open. As far as he could tell, the bed was relatively clean also and he then realized his wounds had been treated. It was a rather messy job, compared to what he was used to- but that was expected after their last brawl together.
Realization then dawned on him, Lovina had done this.
"Lovina! Hijo de tu puta madre, que rayos es esto?! (Son of a bitch, what the hell is this?!)" Any form of composure was lost then. His wrists burned with the rope grinding against his skin every time he struggled and shook the bed frame, but he was convinced they were becoming looser. If not, he could always draw attention to himself and find a way out.
"Lovina! Fe-" After a moment's thought, racking his mind for the proper name, Antonio continued. "Feliciano! Come here!" The foreign language felt bitter on his tongue, he despised using English almost as much as Dutch. The struggling continued until his chest was sent heaving up and down, to no avail. Concluding he'd been going on about this the wrong way- that and the fact that he was too tired to continue struggling against the bindings, the Spanish captain used his fingers to prod at the knots just inches away. Double knots, the ropes were looser at the top, the first few rings hung lazily over the last two that dug into his skin. He couldn't determine his feet's condition but he guessed they were at the same stage. Seeing as no form of twisting would free him, Antonio wracked his mind for more ideas. He could bite his way through, it would work if he wasn't interrupted after the ruckus he made earlier.
Lovina had long since retreated downstairs after her initial treatments were done. She sure as hell didn't want to spend any more time in that room with him than she needed to, out cold or not. Finally done bandaging up his extensive injuries and cleaning him off a little from the dried blood and seaweed that covered him, she took her things downstairs to clean and put away, save for anything she would need to give him. Ha, as if she actually put shit away. She had set her brother on the task of cleanup, from the supplies to the broken plate just outside the chapel doors. Hey, she was justified. She was the one taking care of the violent psychopath, whom she had forbidden Feliciano to get within a hundred feet of.
Her pest of a brother did nag the crap out of her about what the hell was going on, so while he was cleaning, she told him a vague version of the events in exchange for him doing all the work. She had explained it as some deluded crazy who she had found on the side of the road who obviously needed to be saved, in both body and soul. The easily impressed teenager was enraptured by his older sister's story of goodwill, forgetting the whole part about how he was possibly a demented killer.
Her story got cut short by a clamor coming from above them. She looked up lazily. Their little friend had woken up at last, it seemed. And he did not seem happy at all. She excused herself from entertaining her fratello to make her way upstairs, as leisurely as she pleased. She wasn't in too much of a rush now that he was confined. His thrashing only got louder as she neared the door, almost making her worry further about him. Not really. It wasn't like he was having a seizure or anything.
She opened the door somewhat carefully, surveying the man before she fully opened the door, straightening her spine. A small but unmistakably smug smile crossed her lips. She admitted to herself that this amused her. A lot. Finally, finally, she had outsmarted the volatile pirate. He couldn't hurt her if he couldn't move, and as unorthodox as it was, she enjoyed seeing him at her mercy. It wasn't so much his submissiveness as much as her being in control again, for once. Let's see how he liked it. She had a feeling he didn't find himself in this position too often.
The brunette made her way slowly across the room, watching him intently the whole time as she sat down in a chair near his bed, still just out of arm's length. Her face broke into an even larger grin. She was asking for it now. "So," she started off slowly and leisurely, looking him up and down with ease. "Let's cut the crap. If you ever want to eat again, you're going to answer a few questions. Starting with who the fuck you are."