1807/Shadows from Newcastle

Shadows from Newcastle
Date of Scene:	23 May 2020
Location:	Some Bar.
Synopsis:	Constantine bumps into a friend from his past with an annoying accent and a very bad habit, who has mistaken Colette for his next fix.
Cast of Characters:	Colette O'Connail, John Constantine

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Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Before Ravenscar. That's when Constantine had last seen Alex Wagman. Back in Newcastle, at the Casanova club, back when things were interesting and magic was fun, when he was only worried about the small hells in the souls of petty sorcerers and hadn't yet learned how nasty the real Hells could be.

    Back in those days Constantine had known a lot of people who knew a little magic. People who dabbled, for good or ill. Some of them were doomed to be consumed by it, and Wagman was surely one of them, but no - somehow he has survived. Somehow he has made it to New York. The years have not been kind to him, but then that's to be expected, because Wagman had an addiction.

    Nobody had liked Wagman. He was creepy. Slimy. Basically weird. He treated magic like a drug, a way to get high. He had a rare trick, a technique of draining magical energy and ingesting it in some bizarre fashion to get high. Like all such addictions, he'd need a bigger dose every time, and back in the day he used to talk about summoning demons a lot. That was his big ambition.

    He wanted to do a line of demon.

    At first sight there was a vague recognition rather than an immediate identification. He has changed. He had been somewhat overwieght, but now he's skeletal. He looks like crack addict desperate for his next fix, and he looks thoroughly out of place in the small, dark, but somewhat upmarket bar he sidled nervously and furtively into. He must surely be after a fix.

    Inside, Wagman makes a beeline to the bar, taking a seat and ordering himself a bourbon. His eyes keep going to a young blonde woman sitting a couple of stools past him, but she has either not noticed or is ignoring the attention.

    "Hey," he finally ventures.

    "Fuck off," she replies, not even looking at him.

John Constantine has posed:
     Newcastle, one of a few defining moments in John's life that he wished hadn't happened. It had been nothing short of trauma, seeing Astra sent to Hell like that.

  John stepped into the bar, his trench coat waving in the air outside. It was something he hadn't looked forward to. But The Hellblazer needed to tie up loose ends. The blonde man walked calmly into the bar, sidling up behind Wagman as he failed to hit on the lass at the bar. "Glenmorangie." He orders, in his special brand of Scouse accent. Then the distinct ping of a zippo lighter, and the hiss of burning tobacco behind the addict.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Wagman almost spills his Wild Turkey. "Shite!" He says, turning quickly in his seat. " Constantine. Worra you doin' here? Divven' go oop behind me like that, man. Ye almost gave me a fookin coronary. "

    He doesn't seem to have lost his annoying accent.

    Wagman shifts nervously, glancing a the blonde again before giving Constantine a sickly grin. "Eh, it's good to see yez again marra," he lies. "I ah can't stay long though, got stuff to do me."

    He scratches the back of his hand, and turns his chair around in a transparent attempt to put himself between Constatine's gaze and his target.

John Constantine has posed:
     "Yes, I'm sure you do." John says, taking a drink of his wiskey. When Wagman starts to put on a show, John just keeps on it.

  "Tying up loose ends, mate. And stopping you from what your about to attempt to do." John mentions, looking directly into Wagman's eyes. Those baby blues behind the day's worth of beard growth piercing into Wagman.

  "Now tell me, 'mate'. You still chasin' the dragon?"

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Wagman scratches the back of his hand again. "Nay man, I'm oot of the business these days. Straight, me. Haven' touched the stuff in years." He turns his hand over, scratching at the palm.

    Part of the ritual he used to drain power from a spell involved tracing glyphs on his palm. He's not doing that now, not quite. It wouldn't be enough anyway - there was also a vocal invocation involved, but he's kind of half doing it anyway a partial tracing of the glyph as a kind of reflex action. "

    The blonde gives a sharp look in his direction, frowns and returns to her drink and laptop.

    "Ey it's a canny coincidence though, na? You and me walkin' into the same bar, like. Must be what five years now, reet?" It's been more than ten. "I heard where you made quite a name for yourself, like. "

John Constantine has posed:
     John continues to smoke his cigarette, following Wagman's hand as it scratches and picks at areas. He knew those gestures, seen countless people itching for another fix. John himself has dabbled, but never on the scale that Wagman has.

  "As if somethin' directed me to this very place, mate." Says the Laughing Magician, the lone rider of the synchronicity wave. The blonde woman gets a slight nod from John. Trying to convey to the young lady that he was trying to intervene.

  "We did what we could, mate. After Newcastle."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "How man, I 'ad nothing to do with that stuff!" Wagman's eyes widen with a hint of fear. "Them parties. The cellar. I wasn't part of that business, I swear. I know what you're thinkin. Because I used to talk shite about you know, the invocations and that. But I didn't do it. Never got me bottle up for that kind of thing in the end, man. Ye've got the wrong man if you're lookin' me up about what happened."

    The blonde woman responds to John's nod with a resigned expression, but mostly seems willing to just ignore the two Brits.

    "Look, maybe I like gettin' mortal off me head on a bit o' that special juice man, but I'd never get involved with something like that." He seems to have forgotten his claim to be off the stuff. "Those lot were proppa mental, like. I'm sorry about what happened Constantine. It were nothing to do with me though."

John Constantine has posed:
     John looked to Wagman still, taking a drink from his glass again. "Yeh, yeh. I'm over it, mate. Now, what I'm concerned with is that The Wave sent me here. And the wave doesn't lie."

  "Now, what'ya say, go an get yerself cleaned up. Offa the juice."

  Obviously, John did not believe his old friend had actually gone clean, and what he could do was dangerous for all involved. This was part of his penance, for Astra.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Wagman stares at his own glass, which had been sitting there forgotten, and follows John's lead in taking a gulp. He places the glass down very carefully, turning it in circles on the top of the bar. "I'm in control man. Mostly clean. Just need a little bit from time to time, ye kna. "

    He goes back to scratching his palm.

    "Ye can't just cold turkey it, man." Wagman stares down at his hands, unable to meet John's eyes. "Ye just can't. There's a part of me that's gone, Constantine. Ain't there any more. I need a bit of juice from time to time just to fill the gap, ye kna? There's no harm in it, I swear. I take it careful like. I promise. When I stumble on something that's gonna make me fizz a little. Just a touch, I swear."

John Constantine has posed:
     John tugged on his cigarette one more time. Exhaling the smoke right at Wagman. "And terrorizing others before ya do." He comments, turning to face the bar, keeping Wagman in his peripheral. "Yeah, careful-like."

  It was about that time he finished his glass, and leaving his cigarette on the ashtray.

  A swift move, one quick stand and two hands reach for Wagman's collar, lifting up the man slightly. "Now you listen here, junkie. So help me if I find you've taken juice offa one more person, I come back and I show you the real deal."

  It was about that time that John's face started to act differently, from his forehead started to protrude two black horns, his eyes starting to glow red, and his teeth extended into fangs. "You want to dance with the devil, I'll put you at the head o' the dance card, mate. And trust me, he'll love gettin' a taste of your soul."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Wagman goes limp, cowering from John's anger. "Jeezus shite man Constantine! I'm not after trouble, no need ta get up a height aboot it like! I divven' take it of people, like! I swear! Never people!"

    John's transformation gets a reaction from others in the bar too. The barman's about to intervene in what looks like a potential fight when he sees the horns and glowing eyes, and decides to back away instead. The blonde kicks her stool back, leaping to her feet and taking a few steps back, one hand raised in warding off gesture. "What the fuck is you guys' problem?" She demands in an annoyed voice, which is a slightly odd reaction all things considered.

John Constantine has posed:
     John's horns and glowing eyes were only an illusion. Cast on himself, whereas anything living could clearly see John looking like a demonic hybrid. Any cameras around, would see nothing.

  He lowers Wagman down, and seethes, the illusion going away. "Jus' make sure it stays that way, 'mate'." John picks that cigarette back up, and gives a half hearted salute to the blonde woman. "No problem 'ere, luv. Just a conversation amongst old acquaintances." A drag is taken off the cigarette, the whisps of smoke dance their way around Colette, before disappearing. The smoke was a protection ward, as John believes Wagman had her in his sights.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette narrows her eyes at John. After a few moments she gives him a nod, picks up her laptop and drink and moves a few spaces down the bar with them.

    Wagman downs the rest of his drink in a single gulp and sits down again, a little shaky. He puts both hands on the bar and exhales. "Constantine mate," he whispers. "She's a fookin' demon or something. I wuzn't gonna do anythin' bad. I could just smell the juice on her is all."

    She's not a demon. John would already have known if she was. She looks pretty normal - young enough she's undoubtedly going to be carded in here, and possibly young enough that her ID is fake. There is maybe the whiff of something magical there, but she's no demon, she doesn't seem to recognize who Constantine is, and didn't react to the casual spellcasting in the way you might expect the mystically inclined to do.

John Constantine has posed:
     "Are you takin' the piss, mate?" He whispers, giving the girl an occasional glance. "Nothin' on her is demonic. Nothin' at all."

  John keeps smoking on that cigarette, still glancing to Colette every now and again. The young lady was a bit of an enigma now, he felt the magic on her, but something was off.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "Somethin' dark on her man, I can taste it. I told you."

    Wagman gestures the barman, who gives a suspicious stare. "Another for me an' me mate," he calls out. The barman looks suspicious but things seem to have calmed down and become reasonably friendly again, so he takes Wagman's money and refills both glasses, if a little cautiously.

    "If ye say she's no demon I canna say ye're wrong, Constatine," Wagman acknowledges, lifting his glass. "But I know what I taste. Maybe she's got some kind a curse or soomat. I'd probably be deein' her a favor."

John Constantine has posed:
     John reaches his hand to hold Wagman's shoulder. "No. She's off limits, mate. And if you do, I'll know."

  The blonde keeps watching, every now and again. "But still..."

  He stands, and strides over to Colette. Daring to take a seat. "Excuse me, spare a moment for a chat?" It was direct but effective. Why not ask the source herself.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Wagman twitches a little when John moves over to his 'fix'. He scratches furiously at his cheek, looks down, takes a stiff drink. He may be worried that John is attempting to steal his find.

    Colette turns her head slowly, sighing very softly under her breath. She stares at Constantine for a while, then shrugs, closes her laptop, and takes a swig of her drink.

    "Whatever it is," she says. "The answer is almost certainly no. So. What?"

John Constantine has posed:
     "You have the smell o' magic on you." John says, very quiet like. "Have you ever experienced things you cannot explain? Things around you doing odd things and no one else is there to do it?"

  Constantine had an inkling about it but he couldn't be sure. Normally a mage would have been found by now, right? There were too many others around who find their kind, but could someone have fallen through the cracks?

  So where does that leave this girl? This blonde?

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette studies John for a while before answering. "Anyone who claims they have an explanation for everything they've experienced is either really fucking stupid or leads an incredibly sheltered life."

    She sighs and turns away to take a sip of her drink. "Odd things happen all the time, but generally there's some idiot around doing them. It's probably, you know. Like passive smoking. I've got the 'smell o tobacco about me too right now, thanks to you, but I don't smoke. I'm sure you're just 'smelling' the... residue of something I've been around. I wouldn't let it worry you."

    Colette tilts her head back, studying John's features. "Still, rich coming from you. I'm not the one who was sprouting horns a moment ago."

John Constantine has posed:
     "Right you are, luv. But I'm talking worse than losing your favorite barrettes or swearing you saw somethin' levitate. I'm thinking you have some'a the good magic coursin' through you."

  John takes another drag of his cigarette, and exhales it away from Colette. He stands and shrugs, before gesturing over time Wagman. "Very well. Just a bit o' illusion. Now, your attention. That one over there wants what you got, the magic. Do not let him take it from ye."

  At that point, he smirks to Wagman and starts walking out the pub. A cool smirk on his face.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette nods her head to John. "Yeah well if I see something levitate I'd probably know who to blame but it wouldn't be me," she says. "I can't make things levitate. I'm not Hermione Granger or anything, okay?"

    She glances towards Wagman and gives a nod of her head. As John gets up to leave, she calls "Still, thanks for the warning," after him.

    She finishes her drink, and steps over to Wagman. There is, suddenly, a rather strong scent of dark magic, but it only lasts a moment. If Constantine looks back from the doorway he'll see nothing obviously magical going on, but Colette does now have a hand on the back of Wagman's neck and is snarling a warning in his ear. Wagman looks distinctly worried.

John Constantine has posed:
     That feeling, the dark magic, John knew it well.

  But, he kept a watch on it, as much as he didn't like Wagman, he didn't actually do anything wrong yet. Then, Constantine simply kept a watch on it, and tried to just figure out what this girl was. Harry Potter is for bedwetters anyway.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    The confrontation between Colette and Wagman ends with her giving the back of his head a light but not exactly friendly bang with the heel of her hand, but she seems to be intent on intimidation rather than harm. Wagman keeps his eyes firmly away from her, downs the rest of his drink, and orders another.

    Colette picks up her laptop and stalks out of the bar. On the way past John she gives him a shrug and a half-apologetic grin. "Didn't say I wasn't a meta though, okay?"

    As excuses go, it's one that reveals at least one thing to him; she's no trained sorceress, or she'd have a better idea of how identifiable the scent of magic actually is. There was something magical there, and what's more something oddly unfamiliar about the magic.

    The different schools and realms of magic all have their giveaways, little notes in the weft of the spellweaving that can be identified, like a signature of the spellcaster that gives away hints as to where they learned their penmanship.. The magical hints here don't have any of that - it's all very /raw/. It's easy to see why a rank amateur like Wagman could have mistaken it for demonic because there's an echo of that flavor to it, but Constantine knows demonic far to well to make that rookie mistake.

    There's also a giveaway that Colette isn't telepathic, though John wouldn't spot it. She'd absolutely have stopped to argue if she'd heard his thoughts on Harry Potter.