If it were anybody else, Mabelle would have perhaps mistook Michel's statement as encouragement, but instead attributed it to his need to criticize. "When you dislike something, then it doesn't really make sense to not avoid it," she countered, just as confused by his actions as he was by hers. But there it was- he knew, and she knew he knew, and he knew that she knew that he knew. So there really wasn't much else to discuss, because clearly it didn't disgust him enough to leave her alone, and she had no intention of pursuing things that were clearly a waste of time.
Unfortunately that knowledge didn't actually stop the lingering feelings or wandering thoughts. Somehow it felt safer having a confused infatuation for somebody that seemed completely apathetic toward it, because she'd have no idea how to proceed anyway, and at least he had yet to mock her for it. She'd already learned to accept that there were plenty of things wanted but couldn't have, especially hard on herself for any passing desire for things she clearly didn't deserve, trying to rid herself of any sense of entitlement. She just needed time for it to fade away.
Finally getting back to her feet, Mabelle shook her head. "I didn't get my hopes up. I knew he'd grow bored of me eventually," she confessed, heading over to her easel and carelessly knocking the beginnings of her painting from it to make space, figuring she wouldn't have time to finish it anyway now. "We start here. What did you bring?"