His sister once told him to be nice to people and they would be nice in return. Considering their overwhelming age gap, she had been right and still remains to be right even to this day. She was perhaps the one and only person who could pull a genuine smile from him and the only person to have seen a more gentle side to him. Although, that was something that hadn't happened in ages, he hadn't sat down and just talked it out with his sister, had dinner or even seen her in awhile now. The warlock was entirely aware the moment he saw the woman, she would have him wrapped around her finger again and pump her full of money for her drug addiction. Things... he wasn't too keen on thinking about and yet, she made sure, she was on his mind constantly. Brenden knew for a fact he needed to find a place to hide for a few days, maybe he would rent a hotel for a night or two, he was certain she would be on her way here in a matter of moments.

It was a high stress situation and the exhaustion was beginning to crack the scowl that lingers on his face, his dark eyes blinking at the southern woman across from him. Her quip back to him has him staring at her for a long moment, a sigh being released through his nostrils. It was true... he had almost hit her but in his eyes... he didn't and that was all there was to be said. It wasn't a topic he was willing to linger on. His demeanor shifts shortly after as his mood sours as he snaps his notebooks closed with finality - a scowl lingering on his face as he all but bites out his words of disgust. He's very nearly ready to stand and lead her out of the shop before her southern accent is firing back at him. Eyes widening, Brenden takes a long look at her, looking for a place to cut her off and demand she leave. At least... that was his goal until she threw that challenge in his face.

He sits there with lips parted, looking for his voice, looking more like a gaping fish every moment before he finally snaps his jaw closed, his teeth clacking against each other audibly. Brenden watches her for a long moment, his brows furrowed before he sighs in utter defeat. Fucking women. He couldn't win today, could he? Bringing a hand up, he drags it down his face as he pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes falling closed as he gives a large exhale. Grunting, he lets his hand fall to the desk before his fingers drum across the wood surface lightly. "Fine," he mutters after a moment, "I'm only doing this because... I jumped to a conclusion," he states gruffly, looking away. It was probably the best apology Carolina was going to get, the words 'I'm sorry,' perhaps only leaving his lips once or twice in his adulthood years.

Refocusing his gaze on her, he reaches down and flips open that notebook, finding a clean page as he picks up the pencil again, his eyes flicking up to meet her's again. "If you are willing to still work with me," he pauses, a wince crosses his features momentarily, "What are your ideas you have?" He asks finally, the man hardly known for making exceptions. If it were... any other day, he might have kicked her out and dealt with the consequences that followed but his mental state was exhausted. Reaching out, he taps the notebook in front of her with the eraser, "That book has a lot of work I've done in the past, feel free to browse through it to get a feel of my style more," his deep tenors roll off his tongue, while his deep brown eyes watch her. It was amazing... how fast his switch could be flipped.