Green met brown, and didn't waver. There was argument there. But she knew she would lose it. If anyone was more stubborn than she was it was John Constantine. And she could see it in his eyes that she would absolutely lose that argument, even if he didn't know who she was talking about.
So instead of making that making that losing argument she stood up and dusted off the back of her jeans. Nodding at his suggestion to a drink, and a sit. She held one hand out to him to help him up while the other made an attempt to wipe away the bloody mess that her tears left. Taking note of the scratches on his face. Her lower lip quivered slightly. She closed her eyes. And forced herself to breathe.
"I don't remember being this broken. Not where anyone could see me." But she knew she had been, Brenna was cured because she had been inconsolable and praying to anyone that would listen.