Rubbing roughly at her eyes once more, Mabelle fought off the beginnings of a headache that had been threatening to emerge since the conversation began. His confirmation of what she had just said solidified her defeat, finding it suddenly very difficult to swallow. As much as she reminded herself that she had no place to be upset, that she did this to herself, she couldn't help but be exhausted from the emotions she was fighting harder than usual to replace with the familiar comfort of stiff numbness.
She was ready to go, but it was difficult to find the will to move from the seat, eyes focusing on the knife marks on the table from when this all began. And now here it ended. Raising from the chair slowly but calmly, she carefully kept her back toward him as she pushed the chair back in, unwilling to look at him again now that their parting of ways was finalized. She couldn't allow herself a sentimental last look. Silently answering Michel's question by barely lifting a simple eye patch from the edge of the table, Mabelle just as quickly lowered it. He was a smart man, he could figure it out on his own.
Fingernails scraping against the surface of the table as she stepped away, Mabelle headed straight for the door, once again ignoring the cape.