Sitting was at least easier than standing, and Mabelle was grateful enough not to protest his continued forceful handling even if it did interfere with her intentions to get out of there. But if he was wanting to keep her around just a bit longer, even if it was just to continue demanding answers, then she was content enough to enjoy the relative warmth of his apartment versus the outdoors. She wished that they could be having this conversation when she wasn't feeling so run down, but she supposed they wouldn't have to have any conversation in that case. She never would have resorted coming back otherwise, but her obvious desperation wasn't something she wanted to share now that her plan had backfired. Like all her plans seemed to regarding him.
"He's dead," she cut straight to the point, sounding somber but not with the same remorseful weight expected when reporting the deaths of close friends. Especially when it was probably her fault he got sick in the first place. Mabelle hadn't cried then, and she wasn't about to cry about it now. "You weren't supposed to find me," she clarified the situation, wanting him to know she hadn't intended to go back on the promise she had made to stop bothering him.