Her gaze lingered on his smile as long as it lasted, teeth digging into her own bottom lip to suppress the urge to mirror his expression. "It never helped me any, certainly," Mabelle sighed, because even though it was a far stretch to say anybody looked good in such fashions, she found the overly made-up look especially unbecoming on herself. As small as she was, it felt like she was being eaten alive by all the fabric and layers of accessories. "I'm only upset that I wasn't there to see it," she admitted, although as frivolous as the queen was, Mabelle never thought she was too awful an individual. But her death was as symbolic as it was necessary, and it really was no great loss to the country.
"Maybe once it gets warmer, you can go swimming. I imagine it's a bit like a bath, but I can't even swim. One time I fell into the pond at the Palace of Versailles, and with all I was wearing I would have sunk clear to the bottom if they didn't fish me out. But at least I had an excuse to leave," she recounted one of her most embarrassing stories without even a hint of shame. "And I can write things for you to read... you know how, don't you?" she asked without trying to be too offensive, not even all that certain how much of an education Michel even had. He seemed intelligent enough, but that was a separate matter entirely.