Brooke let herself be pulled into the hug, her body rather stiff. Still, it felt good to be encased in a Damon's arms, her cheek against his firm chest. She took a deep, shuddering breath before he released her, raising her eyebrows as she lifted her hands to wipe away tears that were threatening to fall. "Thanks," she said, taking the bourbon bottle from him and lifting it straight to her lips for a long drink. She just didn't want to feel any more. She wanted to get to the state of drunk where she didn't have to remember what it felt like to be attacked or to love someone you knew you shouldn't. She winced at the feeling of the alcohol in her throat but didn't pause, lifting the bottle back to her lips so she could start glugging the alcohol down.
Brooke stopped a few minutes later, putting an almost empty bottle down on the bar. Damon had drunk a good amount of it before she'd arrived, but she'd definitely had enough that she was well into the realms of drunk. She felt good - better - in a kinda of dizzy, unfocused way. Brooke paused for a moment, trying to hold herself still to stop the room spinning, before she reached out for Damon's arm as she slid off the stool. "Sure," she said. "Why not?" She grabbed her bag and the bottle from the bar and looked up at him. "Where to?"