She let out a quiet laugh. It was maybe a little thick with tears, but it was genuine. "You don't look a day over twenty-five, Jack."

Her lips pulled in a small smile at the handkerchief. It seemed silly and old fashioned and she didn't even think people carried around handkerchiefs anymore. But if they suited anybody, it was Jack.

The smile was quick to fade though as she listened to his words. She hated Malcolm Merlyn. She hated him more than she thought she hated anything else. Maybe even more than she hated Slade Wilson. And she felt so tightly wound around it that she wasn't sure she could separate herself from it. It had become such a part of her in such a short amount of time, she didn't know if she could shake it.

She blinked away tears, still looking up at him. "I don't know if I can," she said quietly. "Sara was my friend. Malcolm gave me a drug that made me follow orders without remembering them. He made me kill Sara and I didn't know about it for months." She searched his face, gauging his reaction, and added, "I don't know how to not hate him."