Sweeping some of the smaller pieces into a pile, Mabelle quietly and complacently nodded along to his chiding. For days she'd been holding back any desires to argue with him, feeling indebted enough to keep her mouth shut even when she thought he was being unfair. He worked hard to support the both of them while they were barely managing to get by, and she reminded herself of this every time he ranted or she felt the need to complain. He was the only reason she was still alive.
Knowing Michel was referring to the pot of stew simmering on the fire, Mabelle slowly got to her feet and disposed of the mug shards cupped in her hands. "I was tired of being worthless," she sighed, brushing her palms off on her skirt before taking the stew off the fire. "And I thought... maybe I could do something nice for you since you were working so late." Unfortunately good intentions of making things up to him never seemed to work out well for her, not sure why she was cursed with such bad luck. Or maybe bad judgment. She could only hope that the supper she prepared wasn't awful, not wanting even more of a case against her.