Cramming her feet into the too-small shoes, Mabelle brushed off her coat before pulling it on. She wasn't too certain who it once belonged to and wasn't all too certain how she ended up with it, but obviously it was a man's coat several times too large for her and would have fit Michel far better. But other than having to roll up the sleeves, it wasn't too much of a hassle, serving its purpose of keeping her warm even if it wasn't particularly flattering or stylish.
It was obvious to her that she wouldn't have managed to make it as long as she had without help, but it was still difficult to accept it without having something to give in exchange. If it weren't for the sketchbook, she really wouldn't have bothered going back to Dorian's anyway, and she certainly wouldn't have told him her intentions of staying there for the night because she really had no concept of what sort of implications her actions would have for him. She hadn't meant to be misleading, or make Michel feel obligated to carry her stuff, but she knew he was plenty capable of refusing if he wanted. Grabbing the remaining bag with both hands and hoisting it over her shoulder with a tiny grunt, Mabelle got the door for him on the way out.