Hasibe wasn't, actually, expecting the confession, judging by the way her eyes widen and she stops in her tracks, too, looking at him at closer proximity. Part of what interests her about Mitchell is that he does tend to surprise her where no one else does; she knows people, regardless of species, in a way that she is seldom startled. She tilts her head to the side, making eye contact in her steady kind of way.

"I didn't actually know any of this until you told me, so you might want to dial the defensiveness down by about a thousand degrees; I'm not interrogating you." A pause. "Although I think I'm flattered by the implied assumption of my omniscience within the club."

Moving on.

She reaches out to take hold of one of his hands, as if dismissing the mea culpa--it's not like they're talking about him simply sleeping with some other girl just after Hasibe herself, though she probably wouldn't require as much for that, either. (She doesn't know how she'd feel about that, actually, and it's nothing she feels like examining at the moment, in a fascinating burst of internal hypocrisy.)

"But I'm glad you stopped, and I'm very glad you told me. I could tell something was up." Her smile is slight, a touch self-deprecating. "If you're going to lie to me, Mitchell, you have to be really, really good at it. It's best not to bother."

And that's it.

That's her reaction.