Mitchell slowed when she grabbed his coat, giving her a chance to catch up. "I'll bring it down for you at dinner then." At least there was a chance of something being salvaged from that night. The tacky sweater suited him as much as a tacky sweater could have. While it was nice to have her offer to fix it, there was still a lot from that night she couldn't fix for him. He needed an eraser for his life.
"There's nothing clear about it!" Though he realized that admitting that was also probably admitting that he didn't understand the situation as well as she did. Or perhaps he was just much more willing to sink back into denial and make excuses as he pleased. It almost seemed odd when she was usually the avoidant one. He was used to tackling issues head on, but when it was something like this he just didn't know how to handle it. Not with her. "Mabel," he started, almost gently as if about to make some life changing confession, "I can't stand you. And I do have bloody valid reasons! I don't-" He didn't love her? No, he couldn't make himself say it. Saying that he didn't understand why he liked her at all and spent all of his time with her would've been more honest, but he wasn't going to say it.