Who: Mabelle and Michel What: Michel discovers there's worse things than monsters lurking under the bed :| When: Beginning of February Where: You guessed it
Luckily she didn't feel particularly inspired, because she couldn't even busy herself with painting when she couldn't afford the supplies anymore and spent most of her time sleeping or pretending to be instead. At least it was easier to ignore how hungry she was then. Her ability to work had come to a grinding halt once the complaints of her weight loss had started, which only made it more difficult to eat, and the debt she owed to the pharmacist for Michel's medical supplies continued to loom over her head. She had resorted to selling most of what little she owned, able to get rid of her paintings for less than what it cost to make them in the first place. It still hadn't been enough, so when Mabelle had gotten sick, she hadn't even bothered to seek help. Whether she had recovered or not was little concern to her, until she was no longer sick but Dorian had caught her cold instead.
It was enough to temporarily pull her out of her own cycle of self-destruction, dedicatedly taking care of the man that had been far too generous and patient with her living in his home. But he hadn't lasted for more than a week despite her best efforts, passing in his sleep while Mabelle comfortingly gripped his hand. While he had no surviving family, at least that she knew of, she didn't feel quite comfortable keeping more than what allowed her to finally pay off what she owed and a few warm meals, using the rest of Dorian's modest savings for a proper burial in a plot with his wife and children as he asked her.
However guilty she felt, Mabelle had been faced with the greater problem of having absolutely nowhere to go, and if it weren't still winter perhaps she could have managed anyway. She wasn't certain what she was thinking (clearly she hadn't been) when she found herself outside of Michel's door at some strange hour before sunrise, trembling from the cold and ready to collapse with exhaustion. She had kept the key all this time for reasons she didn't want to think about, holding it tightly in her palm as she deliberated. If she snuck in now and hid, he wouldn't have to know she was even there, and she could easily leave when he was either gone or asleep again. At the moment she didn't see any other option, quietly unlocking the door and opening it just enough that she could squeeze through without letting too much cold air in and relocking it just as carefully once she was inside. It was dark of course, but she knew the layout of the room well enough still that she could find her way over to Michel's bed without running into anything. She had either lost her shoes at some point or had sold them, but her bare feet hardly made a sound as she moved unhurriedly across the apartment. His light breathing was enough to confirm he was asleep and unaware of her intrusion, and so she slipped underneath the bed because it seemed the easiest place to stay hidden, curling up on the floor and not taking long to fall asleep herself.