Normally she wouldn't worry too much about making Michel comfortable with the process as he was a stubbornly strong man that didn't need a lot of pampering, but she knew she was already asking a lot from his trust after she had so violently violated it. "I'll go slow. And you can put your hands on my wrists," she offered, holding up both hands for him to see she wasn't holding anything threatening, just a handtowel moistened with clean water. Leaning over him, she firmly held the side of his head in place to reduce movement much as she had the night before, wiping around the outside of the socket to remove a lot of the congealed blood and get a better view of what she was doing.
"Mostly, yes," she confirmed his last statement, slowly easing herself in even closer as she continued to clean out the wound with gentle blotches instead of scrubbing, extra delicate as she worked inside the socket as not to agitate any scabbing or the raw skin. She didn't want to speak too much, nor too loudly with their proximity, concentrating fully on the task at hand. While she certainly was no doctor and had no medical training at all, she did remember how Dorian had treated her fingers and at least had the advice from where she bought the supplies. The rest was mostly guesswork.
Briefly removing the towel, although remaining rather close herself, Mabelle refolded it to a clean section and applied a liberal amount of antiseptic from the bottle that probably cost her the most. "This might sting," she warned only so he wouldn't think she was injuring him further, but not giving him a lot of time to protest before applying it directly to the wound. Holding the towel in place to give it time to sink in or whatever it needed to do to work, Mabelle idly stroked the side of his face with her thumb.