She saw him rub her eyes as she looked to him again when seated.  Blue.  She made special point to repeat that a few times in her head.  His eyes were blue.  Eyes were a very important detail about a person in her books and yet she could not keep his eyes in her mind.  Then again, her mind was like walking into winds of a hurricane as things spun about and were gone so rapidly only to blindside her again a moment later as the winds of rage and pain stirred her thoughts so.<br/><br/>His story continued with bitterness and pain, skimming the details as lightly as possible while giving her the picture.  Instantly her heart breaks for him as no one deserved to be preyed upon this way.  No one. Her day was harsh, but not that harsh.  She swallows with an "oh crap" about his predicament.  The floof of rose petals spread over the floor, but also onto her.<br/><br/>Just then the drink cart pulled up.  She had enough for two drinks, but only two drinks.  She didn't hesistate "I'll have a coffee with bailey's in it."  She turns to him as he concentrates on the flowers, "John, what would you like - my treat."  She never drank straight alcohol, hell it was a rare occassion to find her drinking any at all.  Those who knew her would testify to counting the drinks they have seen her have one one hand - and all on particularly bad days.  The server gets her coffee as he listens for John's order.  She sinks back into her seat.<br/><br/>'If only she weren't real' she muttered to herself about her own story.  She instantly was sorry to have said such as John my think she meant his 'girl' or made fun of his story, but too late the words escaped before her mind could catch them.  She just hoped the busy drink cart was distraction enough that he had not heard her.