10862/Ruins Aren't Always Ancient

Ruins Aren't Always Ancient
Date of Scene:	22 April 2022
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	Chas and Jon talk about the future of his life and their moving forward over a final drink in the ruins of the Laughing Magician.
Cast of Characters:	Chas Chandler, Jonathan Sims

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Chas Chandler has posed:
    The door of the Laughing Magician is open. That much is probably a surprise to anyone passing. But the waving of a flashlight inside the building, the light occasionally spilling to the steps outside as it swings around is enough to cause general alarm to anyone who is familiar with the abandonment of the establishment. A clatter comes from inside and a once familiar voice to the halls of the now ruined bar comes out.

    "Bollocks!" Chas shouts after he hops on on foot for a moment. The inside of the bar is dark and so he didn't see the ruins of one of the stools in his way as he made his path to his old helm. He kicks the ruined chair aside and eyes it for a moment. Chairs and him didn't have good memories. Not as bad as Cael's memories, but he was there for the things Michael did with his body as the Papal Killer and so it's a near thing.

    He reaches the bar and sets his torch atop the once polished surface, setting it to a latern position to give some illumination to the whole interior. He surveyes the damage and looks up through the hole punched by Michael's first departure. He can just see his bedroom and the ruins of his own bed through the structural damage. "Would it be worth it?" he muses to himself as he sighs. "How would I even pay for it? Not like this place brought in enough to justify keeping it open as it was." He hasn't noticed the small bundle further down the bar yet.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon is on his way to the Curio to check on Chas. It's been a few days, and whether or not the man is awake, Jon figures he ought to at least come by and see how he's doing. He's been busy, himself, closing out his practice in Queens and clearing out his old office, making sure his patients' files get moved over and certain personal files wind up in the Archive. And then, of course, there's the Archive /itself/ to think about, the cache of documents Cael and Martin found in Washington, the artifact Martin found in Italy... bits of his inheritance, scattered over the world, and when will he find time to track them down?

    On noticing the open door of the Laughing Magician and the light inside, he turns and starts for the place, frowning slightly. He looks... normal, for the moment, wearing a light jacket over a t-shirt and jeans, aside from having only the one arm. He raps at the door and peers inside.

    "Chas, mate? That you making all the ruckus?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas looks more or less like himself, if a bit more square in the shoulder and slimmer around the middle. He's wearing a sweatshirt, pajama pants (drawn as tight as they would go) and a old windbreaker over top. His hair is a bit less perfect than it was at the Gate but it's still glossy and well cut if longer than was when he left. He nods at the other man's entrace.

    "The one and only," he replies to Jon's question. "Tripped over a broken ch--barstool. Just taking a look to see if there is anything I need to evac immediately. Never could remember what that damned thing brought in."

    He notices the package on the bar and moves over to it. It's wrapped in plastic and sealed with duct tape. "Something one of you guys left?" he asks. "I know you guys occassionally conducted business meetings with the Archangels--Uriel and Sandalphon--here. But I don't remember you ever leaving a package behind." He peers at it with a curious sort of apprehension.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "We, ahh... we took all of that out right after, and I handed it over to Phoebe the next day. So she might have it, or Zatanna might... I think a few bits wound up in the Archive." Jon smiles, a bit sadly. "It was... umm... Cael and Martin helped. It... gave me something to focus on, in the aftermath of offering myself to Michael, for... retribution." He shifts his right shoulder, slightly, remembering the moment the arm was removed. "Anyway, if there's anything in particular you're looking for, we can find it. None of us wanted to leave anything just... sitting around for looters to take."

    He glances down the bar, and frowns at the package. "I... don't know. I certainly didn't leave anything here. I was careful to take everything with me went I came and went. It just... this was where the gate to Heaven was opened, so it seemed a reasonable place to meet Uriel." A pause. "Well, and, I knew Uriel was operating in this district, looking for the portal to Castle Winterhaven. Phoebe met with Sandalphon here too?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods pointing to a burn barrel near the stage. "Right over there" he says. He tears the tape off the package and unwraps it. "Ha!" he barks out in a laugh. "Figures they'd have some service deliver it all back to me when things were said and done. Along with... compensation?" He pours the contents onto the bar: his phone, wallet, a rolled up piece of parchament, and another roll of what is unmistakeably cash. Chas pockets the wallet, phone, and roll of cash before taking up the scroll. He unravels it and reads outloud.

    "'Francis Chandler'" he scoffs, "'Course they go with birth names... 'While nothing I can give you can undo what was done by my predecessor I do offer my sincerest apologies and condolences for you and those close to you for the distress the past four months have caused. Please, accept your belongings and a token of consolation for any damages to your property. Always and forever your humble servant; St. Michael the Archangel.'"

    He rolls the parchment up and frowns. "Consolation... I suppose that's one word for it. But... I don't know if it's even worth restoring this place. Especially since..." he looks to Jon and frowns. "Well, what do you think Doc?" he asks, looking to Jon. "If a man comes back from a four month hiatus and finds he's not even entirely human anymore, can he really go back and return to the life he had before he took the extended sabbatical?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon walks over toward the bar as Chas reads over the parchment. Almost idly, he conjures up a pair of glasses and a pitcher of what looks and smells like beer, though no beer Chas has ever tasted. It's almost more a mark of the Archivist's own changes than the violet hair or the undercut, the way he casually does minor conjuration these days. "Is he sending something 'round to everyone he wronged?" That posh voice sounds... irritated. "Because there's a fair few in line after you, in terms of need of apology and potential compensation." He reaches out to pour the beer into the glasses. "I mean, really, if you think the angels might set up a victim's compensation fund for the families of those killed in the siege of Manhattan..."

    They sigh, and push one of the glasses toward Chas. "I mean... he can. But does he /want/ to, is the question. If he was happy before? Certainly. But even if he was... well. Things change. People change." Their brow furrows. "What do you mean, though, 'not even entirely hu--'"

    Then they stop, and blink, and lean forward. Without even thinking about it, the feather of Ma'at appears on his brow as he looks Chas over. "What in the bloody..." They pause. Swallow, hard. "Chas... did you know you're basically an angel now?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas scowls a bit even as he enjoys the conjured beer. "I didn't until Phoebe told me about an hour ago" he says. "I don't know how or why... but yeah... comes with a great benefits' package. Apparently, spending a few months on the Gate of Heaven means you can't stay human anymore." He sighs, the action forced. "I don't even need to breathe either. Food. Sleep. Breathing. I just do those because of habit..." He sips more of the beer and nods at the taste.

    "As for a compensation fund... I have no clue. I think this is just a close of the chapter. Besides... not like I'm going to spend it. I was going to give it to..." He pauses. "Well... I guess you." He reaches in his pocket and produces the roll of money before sliding it toward Jon. "For the JLD. Whatever you guys need. I'm sure the castle could use some touch ups. Some things that are more than just vestiges of the guy who used to live there."

    He considers what Jon said about moving on and hapiness. "I don't know... I was for a time. But I missed the road. Maybe I should take that up again. Being a cabbie, you know?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks down at the wad of cash, not touching it just yet. "I... what? I don't know... it's an /Astral/ castle, Chas. If we need something there we can just... conjure it up." He frowns. "And what do you mean, 'you guys'? Are you... leaving? Just because... what, because you're not human anymore? Chas, most of us aren't entirely human."

    He gestures toward the beer Chas is drinking. "I conjured that from my memory of the beer I was given down in Duat. A recipe older than London, something no living soul has drunk in /millenia/. The beer given to the Great God Ra." A brief smirk, and then, "We're none of us /normal/, Chas, except Cael and Red Robin--mostly--but we muddle on through somehow anyway."

    They frown as they pick up their own glass. "Or are you feeling guilty?" A quirk of a brow.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas gives the man a flat look. "What do you think, Jon?" he says running a hand through his hair. "Yes. I'm feeling guilty. Cael had every right to try and take my jaw off up at the Gate. Especially after what he did with my face." He drinks a bit more of the beer. It's helping calm him some at least.

    "What he did to you, to her, to everyone in the city. And, what, I get phenomenal cosmic powers and you guys get trauma, bad dreams, and scars internal and external? Doesn't seem fair to me." He shakes his head.

    "So forgive me for feeling a bit guilty about it all. I don't want to leave, but I'm not sure I am the one who decides that." He pauses and frowns down at the beer. "Not anymore."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Running away isn't going to help," Jon replies, quite bluntly. "And presuming you won't be part of the Justice League Dark before you've even spoken to Cael or anyone but me and Phoebe... that's running away and you damn well know it, Chas. Yes, you screwed up, we both agree on that. So do what you can to make it right, don't... don't..."

    He stops talking, puts his glass down, flexing his fist for a moment. Suddenly, and seemingly apropos of nothing, he says, "I imagine John hasn't been 'round, hmm? Phoebe likely would've told you if he had." He doesn't bother hiding the bitter tone in his voice, or maybe he just... can't, anymore.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas' expression darkness some. "I've not seen him, no. Last Phoebe heard he and Meggan traipsed off to Faerie after eloping." He shrugs and looks away. "I couldn't see into the House of Mystery so for all I know they're still there." He sighs. "He's probably tell me much the same though... to stop being an arse and grow a pair or something along those lines."

    He runs a hand through his hair. "I know. I know. I'm just... scared you know. I hurt... a lot of people. I don't even want to know how fast I'd burn up under one of the Ghost Rider's Stares right now. Also..." He looks over a Jon. "Three of them? I mean, I know there are like usually about 5 roaming about, but for three of them to be this concentrated. Seems a bit excessive to me."

    He sighs, again pausing to notice the forced nature of the action. "I just... I'm scared. Of the accusations and the poor reactions." He looks around as if he expects Cael to appear suddenly with a chair or a fist for his face.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "John and Meggan /and/ Zatanna all traipsed off to Faerie... or wherever they've been... after I told them I'd been chosen as Gaea's Champion. Zatanna helped some, set up wards in Grand Central, but John..." The Archivist shakes his head. "They /left/. We needed them, and they /left/. And maybe they did /something/ in the background, but they certainly weren't..."

    Jon sighs and huffs out a breath. "I've learned a lot the past few months, but one of the important bits is... friends aren't always the people you agree with the most, get along with easily. I've always /gotten along/ with those three, in one way or another. But who came down into the Underworld to help me fix the universe? Who could I trust to hold the fort up here in the world of the living? In some cases, people I'd fought with, argued with--in one case, a literal Hell Lord I thought hated me." He shakes his head. "But they were /there/. They didn't run away when things got tough. They stuck it out. And not only for me, I know, and maybe they wouldn't all say they were friends. But reliability's a better foundation to start on."

    They peer over at Chas. "You're doing Cael a disservice if you don't give her a chance to be friends with you. And the rest, too. Sure, plenty of people were fighting for 'the universe' but a lot of us were trying to get /you/ back, Chas, universe or no."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns a little deeper. "I know what they did... and what they didn't do." He pauses, and his stillness is a testament to how far from human he's gone. No human can be -that- still. After another moment of silence he nods.

    "Alright. I'll give people a chance to say their piece and maybe they'll come to forgive me for the pain I've caused them. All of them." He looks at Jon. "After all, you did and if anyone has a reason to still blame me... it's you." He looks at the loosely hanging arm of the man's coat and frowns. "I wish..." he trails off and shakes his head.

    "No use wishing for what you can't change... I suppose" he says softly, looking away again and taking another long draw from the full tasting beer.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks at Chas for a moment. "Why would I still blame you? I thought we had that out back when I took your statement, when you were bound in the back room." They gesture over toward the door to said back room. "I mean, I hardly covered myself with glory, running away and ignoring you and Phoebe and everyone else when things went to shit. There's blame to go around."

    Their expression softens. "Chas... you were there for me in the /worst/ part of my life. When I actually /wanted/ to die, when I felt alone and lost and disorientated... you talked to me, you tried to help me, you gave me your couch. And the Justice League Dark... nobody believed in it more than you did, at the start. I did all this for /you/. You're... my oldest friend." A laugh. "Probably my best friend, which... I mean, I know I'm not /yours/, but..."

    He looks away, almost embarassed. "I just mean, I'm not... don't... run away, like the others did. Please."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas gives Jon a surprised look. "Jon... the creature I summoned. That I brought here took your arm. Killed you. And almost killed your girlfriend. Pretty sure that puts you as number one on the list of people who have a justifiable gripe with me." He shakes his head. "Not saying you have to, but if you wanted to I'd gladly let you take a swing at me."

    He reaches over and places a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. Aside from maybe away from here..." he looks around. "It might be best to step away from this lifestyle. I picked up a few tools but I never was the best at making drinks and I wasn't the best cook."

    He considers his past. "Really the trait I did the best was listening and honestly in this day of the freelance taxi... who gets talked to more than drivers." He nods solemnly. "It might be time to close out this chapter of my life."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon glowers up at Chas, flinching away from the touch on the shoulder. "That was /Michael's/ fault, and I've already had my beef out with him. Did you fuck up, summoning an angel? Yeah. So, like I said... so /fix/ it. But I fucked up, too, letting you feel so alone that you did that in the first place. /John/ fucked up, making that demonic meat-puppet. And Michael... well... Michael never should have responded to your call. I've had that from /multiple/ sources. He even admitted his wrong, before he died."

    He sighs, and then smiles. "A cabbie who's secretly an angel... that sounds like the start of a midbrow anthology show. A different passenger every episode, flashbacks to their personal problems, and the angel can solve everything before the last commercial. Call it 'Let the Lord Lyft You Up?'" The smile becomes a smirk.

    Then, suddenly, they put the beer glass down on the bar and lean in to give Chas a hug. Tense and afraid--they've become fairly touch-averse, after all--but at least they're /trying/. "I've missed you." They're crying. They can't seem to help it. "Gods, I've missed you, mate."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    It would take a great deal of trauma to make Chas touch averse. He hasn't gotten there yet. He wraps an arm around Jon and gives him a tight squeeze. "I've missed you too, mate." He adds. "But you're going in the bin for that pun." He chuckles and a few tears slide down his cheek into his beard. "That was literally the worst. Appropriate though, from one Dad to another."

    He settles back against the bar some. "I don't know what happened to the deed to this place. I imagine it's somewhere in the House of Mystery if it's anywhere. So it might just go into foreclosure after a while. But I think I'll get what I can out of the apartment and maybe give a call to Asa. See if she wants one large man as a mainstay in her place, slightly used."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "See, you and Cael will get along famously once she's got the punching out of her system. She, too, thinks I'm 'the worst.'" Jon grins, even if he pulls away a little more rapidly than he once would've done. It's another distinct change; Jon's always been a huggy sort of person.

    "As for this place... Phoebe's living in Gotham now. If Asariel won't take you in--which I doubt--we'll find another place for you somewhere. The Justice League Dark has a base now, that castle you directed us to. I think... you can probably let this go, if that's what you want." A pause, and then he reaches out to take the wad of cash and put it in his pocket. "I'll invest this, I think. Set up a fund for the JLD, so we can be self-funded, help bail people out if they get in trouble, that kind of thing. I'm rather wary of depending too much on the largesse of any one person."

    They blink at him owlishly, then, for a moment, as they pick up the beer and take a drink. "So... you're an angel now. Or something like it. You're going to need help figuring out how to control yourself. Learn to be human again. Do you... need any help with that?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods. "Phoebe's offered to help, and I'm going to take her up on the offer, but there's nothing wrong with getting differing opinions on things. I'm going to ask Asa if she can't help too." He frowns. "But I think going to this castle I gave you. It has a name, by the way, The Velvet Room. Would be a good idea, just in case there are unexpected explosive reations to some of the discovery."

    He rolls a shoulder. "Last thing I'd want to do is level a city block by moving too fast or something... you never know with powers from On High." He adds. "You might want to wait on letting Cael take a swing too. I just... don't want to accidentally Full Counter her or something without even thinking. I'll let her take her swings... I just... want to make sure she doesn't get hurt in the process."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Full Counter...?" Jon peers at Chas a moment, then shakes his head. "Well, look, I... I'm not an angel, but I've /fought/ plenty of them. And I know something about... suddenly having a body you don't entirely understand, and powers from On High they didn't give you a manual for." He smirks. "And I'm not worried about hurting you or whatever. You can take it. But yeah, I get you, about Cael. We'll... figure something out."

    He frowns, then abruptly says, "I... I know that you've probably seen all this from... up there, but, I, ahh... I'm not..." He clears his throat. "I'm not precisely... a /man/. You know? I've been... using 'he' and 'they' as pronouns. Considering wearing skirts. Things... like that. Could you still... do you still..." He frowns down at his beer, shoulders tense.

    It might be evident, now, that this has actually been bothering Jon for a while. Will his working-class friend from Liverpool, who's always just been a man and been interested in women, still accept him as he is? He hasn't lost a friend to the gender business yet, but he's tensed for it.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas considers Jon's words carefully for a moment. "I mighta had a problem with it before this whole business with the angels..." he says softly. "Might've been a little too... out of left field, even for me. But..." he shake his head. "Now, I don't really see people in that way. Man, woman, neither, both, it's all..."

    he shrugs. "People are people. They're good. They're bad. They're any number of labels they want to use. But it's not about what's in your trousers, or what's listed on a sheet a paper that the hospital gives out. It's about what's in here..." he touches the middle of his chest.

    "I stopped looking at those things after a few long talks with some of the more... esoteric ones up there. Suriel, Sandalphon, Metatron." He makes a face of concentration. "Emotions and ideologies are more important than what is or isn't flopping around between your thighs. Or whether you have two XXs or an X and Y in your genome. None of that really matters to them and it shouldn't to us either. It's all about what you do with the time you've been given to survive and whether you make a difference or you squander your time and waste all the opportunities you were afforded."

    He looks at Jon again and shakes his head. "So no. It doesn't bother me. You're still Jon... you're he and they... and you're still my friend. Though... not sure if there is a neutral term to use in place of 'bloke.'" He makes a face. "Gonna have to look into that, I guess."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snorts. "'Mate' feels pretty neutral. And, hell, 'bloke' works. I mean... Cael and I decided I'm still her 'boyfriend' because we're not /lovers/ and 'significant other' is so weird and stilted." He shrugs. "I'm Agnes' father, but I'm Martin's spouse. It doesn't have to be all one thing or another. So I can be a 'bloke' if you like. It's fine."

    There's a significant kind of lightening in his shoulders, though, a tension gone from his face. "Glad you learned something up there, though," he adds with a grin. "Before all this... I might've hidden it from you, afraid of how you'd react. But I can't... lie anymore. Quite literally. So... here we are."

    He takes a swig of beer. "So... what now? Grab your stuff, heard to Asariel's? See if you can track John down and deal with the deed to this place?" He pauses, then says, "I'm going on vacation soon, but I can probably take you to the Velvet Room if Phoebe can't manage. It'll give you a key and all."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas gives one more look over the place. "Yeah. I've a duffle up in the flat in a closet that looks like it might've survived the damage." He pushes from the bar and finishes off the beer before setting his glass down.

    "I want to see what I can salvage of my wardrobe... because... I seem to have lost a few pounds or at least a few inches in the midsection." He pats his stomach area with a slight grin. After all, slimming down was something he never would've done himself, but he's not going to scoff at it."

    "Then... yeah, let's get me square with this castle and after getting a key, I can head to Asa's place. Assuming she's still up and her bodyguard doesn't try to piledrive me for the trouble she's been put through in all this."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'd offer some of my own trousers but you manage to be /taller/ than I am." Jon rolls his eyes. "Why'd I take up with the local giant, I ask you..."

    He hesitates, finishing off his own beer and then snapping his fingers. The glasses both disappear in a puff of ectoplasm. Then he says, "...If you're worried about the bodyguard you can crash at my place, mate, seriously. We've still got the Chelsea flat, I can open it up." He raises his eyebrows. "I mean if you're worried about hurting /Cael/..."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas shakes his head. "I'll be able to handle Gio. And I'm not worried about hurting Cael." He pauses. "I'm not sure I could hurt her without a -really- good reason now. I'm worried about her hurting herself on me."

    He takes up the latern and starts for the door. "I'll be alright, Jon. Don't worry too much about me. I'm not entirely sure about specifics... but most of the angels I've met were pretty sturdy... I'm going to go on faith that I'm not much different from them, in that respect at least." He pauses in the middle of the ruined bar. "You want to help me search through my things, or you got places to be?" he asks turning back to his friend.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns at Chas for a moment. "I'm going to worry about you," he says bluntly. "That's... part of being my friend. I worry. If Cael hurt herself on you, then you'd be upset; it'd hurt you both, even if one was emotional. We'll... I don't know. We'll figure it out. Who knows, maybe she'll have calmed down enough to only want to scream at you." Wishful thinking there, Dr. Sims.

    Then they grin, and push away from the bar. "I came out here to see you... so I'm here, for as long as you need. Alright? I forgave Michael, but between you and me? Nothing to forgive. We both fucked up, we're both working on fixing it. Some jackass--who's since died--blew the roof off your place, so I'll help you find your stuff."

    They head over to peer up at the hole in the ceiling. "What are friends for, right?"