With no sign of protest or much concern at all, Mabelle took a seat in the chair he'd previously been occupying, and judging by the warmth he had been there awhile before she disturbed his obvious lack of peace. Silently watching and searching for any signs of weakness in his condition, she frowned when he hit his head against the beam. She'd never seen him do that, and the beams weren't any lower and he wasn't any taller than before. And judging by the the rags on his head, it hadn't been the first time it happened that day. Either he was disoriented with pain, or only having one eye was messing with his vision somehow. Mabelle closed just one eye, and then the next, trying to figure out if there was any difference beyond the slightest shift. The issue of depth perception really wasn't occurring to her, though she considered testing it out on her own later.
"It was a clean cut." It really wasn't an attempt at a brag, as proud as she had been of it at the time. "So the damage is minimal, beyond the obvious. You shouldn't die from it, but there's a likely risk of infection, and that close to your brain it can do a lot of damage if not death," she maintained her very blunt, realistic approach to the situation, unable to appeal to him emotionally. Facts were much easier for her to present, even the gruesome ones. "You obviously haven't gotten it looked at, or properly patched up, and I know you can't afford to. So either let me clean it, or at least talk you through it if you rather me not touch you, because as handsome of a man you are, even you cannot pull off green ooze leaking from your socket." She could have promised that she'd leave him alone after that, but she really had no intentions of lying to him just to get him to comply.