Who: Mabelle and Michel What: Awkward reintroduction When: A month after finger-chopping. Where: Louvre
Undeniably talented at accidentally offending those who might want her neck, and without Mobius' vouching for her anymore when she inevitably did, the last month she had wisely chosen to lay low, keeping well out of the public as the Reign of Terror raged on. While she still supported the Revolution, it was clear any attempts at helping were unwelcome, and so she no longer attended or participated in the public executions.
Luckily it hadn't taken her long to find a new home amongst the artist circles, taken in when she had stumbled to the Louvre with a bloodied hand and a flimsy story about how it happened. Once her hand had healed enough, uninfected only under the supervision of the older painter that she was now living with, she was still capable of holding a paintbrush with the three remaining fingers of her right hand, and although she was clumsy with her grip it was no more so than usual. With all but one of her paintings burned, Mabelle spent almost every waking hour in front of a canvas, indulging in her old methods of escapism with renewed passion.
She did her best to avoid anywhere Michel might be, slightly uncomfortable with her behaviour at his house once the adrenaline rush had faded, quite aware how oddly attracted to the man she was. She didn't recall ever thinking so the previous times they had met, although he was decently attractive, but he was never really her type (didn't think she had a type) until he showed her exactly what kind of man he was. Logically it didn't make sense, well aware of how much he hated her and how obviously she wasn't his type, and all the other factors that made it obviously not going to happen, but their shared intimate moment was one she wasn't easily going to forget. Even if he apparently didn't enjoy it as much as she did.
But when she caught sight of him at the Louvre, the night they were unveiling a new sizable collection of seized Renaissance paintings, Mabelle continued to keep away, only glancing his direction a couple times. At least there were plenty of paintings to keep her distracted, staring at the same one intently for the past ten minutes, studying the use of colours and brush strokes.