Her bluntness hit him harder than he thought something like that would. It wasn't anything he didn't know. He wasn't a nice person and there were very few people who actually liked him. That had never been a problem for him as it wasn't a common thing for him to like anyone else all that much. He was alone, but he was more capable for it. Not even his own parents were given much credit, and from what he learned with his attachment to his uncle, getting attached to anyone wasn't a good idea anyway. It only held him back. From what, he could probably think of a thousand things given time, but he didn't need to focus on that just then.
"There was nothing for you to fix. I don't need anyone to care that much about me," he bit back coldly. He didn't kick her, but he did lean down and pull the bowl away as soon as she sat it by his feet. Not to eat it, but to stand up and walk over to set it back down on the table. "Something like this is not going to kill me, and we do not put food on the floor in my home." Michel was very certain in his stubborn determination. His current state was rather pathetic, but he had never been a weak or feeble person, and he was stubborn enough to stand and argue with death itself if he had to.
Now that he was up, he felt he needed to prove a point to her. He went towards his cabinet in the corner to find a rag for cleaning what he could. However, once again he ducked at the wrong moment and hit one of the beams anyway. "Dammit!" And he was already wearing the rags on his head. Oops.