Reacting with only a reflexive blink to the flick, Mabelle was more taken off guard by his words. Communicating wasn't her strong point, but Mabelle hadn't realized her messages were mixed at all when her singular purpose that evening was to make him leave. But it had been pointed out to her on many occasions before that her thoughts and actions were rarely cohesive, that her methods rarely made sense. She concentrated on trying to find words to express concisely and clearly how she felt, not sure why it was so difficult. "Quit," she began in retort with full intention of saying something eloquent and powerful, an edge of anger in her voice before her expression fell completely blank.
That wouldn't do. She needed to not be there. That was obviously the only solution, no idea how to deal with the building frustration, unable to even pinpoint what the man was even doing to bother her so much. Her hands were fisted tightly, fingernails scraping into her palms despite her frozen face. Turning calmly on her heel, she spotted the nearest exit and headed toward it.