take me to church ♔ there's an art to life's distractions to somehow escape the burning weight.
Corrigan had apologized to her practically at every chance he had in their short exchange. They had no idea the connection she had to Peyton. She didn't blame them - how could any of them have known? Penny kept her long life a secret from as many people as she could. Corrigan and Sherlock only knew about Peyton because he had approached them first.
Penny waved away his apologies. She had been the one to go after Peyton. There was history that had to be settled between them. She didn't expect them to understand or even begin to empathize with her. How could you empathize with something that had gone on for just a few years short of a century? Still, Corrigan insisted, and held her bandaged hands in his. Penny managed a smile for him and he gave her a card. It was the address to the bar he frequented - she recognized the name from the one that Zed had told her about - and told her to order what she wanted on his tab. Penny was about to refuse his offer, but the look in his eyes made her stop. Jim Corrigan had an odd intensity in his eyes that told her he understood the need for justice outside the law. It was almost unnerving.
She was free to go. Peyton wasn't holding any charges against her - probably because he knew he had invited it. Penny nodded and thanked Corrigan as she shifted her jacket back on. Her hands had been bandaged as best as they could be. Peyton had thrown her off of him and she went falling back against the mirror. Penny had learned years ago that anything could be a weapon. She grabbed a shard of the glass after her hands had been cut by them and went at him again. If Sherlock hadn't interfered then she would have killed him for good. Was it good that he had stopped her?
Penny stepped into the bar and walked up to the bartender. She showed him the card that Corrigan had given her and gestured to a bottle of beer. The bartender quickly caught on that she couldn't speak and handed it off to her with a smile. Penny nodded to him in return and picked a table in the back that was away from everyone. She sat down at the table and pulled the sleeves that poked out from under the jacket over the bandages on her hands.
How long had she sat there staring at her bottle? She hadn't touched it. Her purse was at her feet but Penny felt miles away. It was one of those moments where she felt disconnected from the time around her. He was still dead, so at least that hadn't changed. Instead she was left feeling numb and yet in pain at the same time. Penny sniffed before brushing the edge of her sleeve against her eyes. Why did ghosts of the past haunt her when she had destroyed what tied her to the underworld? Damn John Constantine for not giving her any direction on what to do now.