So Mabelle might not have ever been completely well-adjusted before meeting Michel, but she liked to think she was never was quite the mess she was now. It had been simple enough to keep to herself and remain in a state of perpetual detachment to everything that happened to drift through her life. Around Michel, however, she'd been driven far too many times to the brink of her boiling point that she was only surprised that she hadn't finally snapped sooner. But he hadn't known her before they met, and he really didn't know her outside of their interactions to know the way she was around him wasn't like with anybody else. His doubt was easily brushed off, and Mabelle sighed with relief when he finally let her be, running her fingers again through her hair.
Not bothering to check that he wasn't looking, because there really was no reason for him to in her state and no way to stop him if he chose to anyway, Mabelle stripped out of her already damp clothes to finish washing. At least the difficult part was over, and she rushed through the process in the anticipation of sleep, leaving the water quite murky.