Only having two dresses, and the one she was currently wearing was the least shabby of the two, didn't leave her with any options. Which presented the problem of what was she supposed to wear. "So a barrel, then?" she asked in slight confusion, not quite certain if there was a joke she was missing, but it was all he suggested. She wouldn't have even cared if she were attending on her own, after all she had met Michel in a blood-splattered gown.
Fashion really was the least of Mabelle's worries in life, even when she was wearing the latest. Standing for hours while being pinned into the new style of the week and being squeezed into corsets really wasn't her ideal use of time. Even now that her clothing was much simpler and didn't require help to dress, women's clothing wasn't always the most practical for ease of movement, nor the most comfortable.
But Mabelle refused to let a garment get in the way of what she wanted to do. Unfortunately a lot of what she did was messy, so there wasn't much hope for her clothing. Glancing at Michel, his attire appeared to be in much better condition than hers. While nice, it was much plainer than the lavish men's clothing she was used to seeing, so she hadn't paid too close attention before. His painting style was a mess, did he just not manage to splatter any on himself? It didn't help her feel any less self-conscious, suddenly aware of how much of a mess she must appear.
Biting her tongue sharply, Mabelle concentrated hard on the position of her fingers while playing the chord a couple times, getting the the sound ingrained into her head. Starting from the beginning, Mabelle lightly tapped her own foot much slower than Michel had been, each note perfect but the drawn out pace giving the music a more somber quality. Continuing past what they just practiced, she was able to play a few of the chords she skipped before with more time to think the fingering through, but after another couple measures she came to a stop again.