7428/Something Lost is Found Again.

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Something Lost is Found Again.
Date of Scene: 18 August 2021
Location: The Laughing Magician
Synopsis: John gets his lighter back, but at what cost to Karita? There's gum under Phoebe's table... she better get on that.
Cast of Characters: John Constantine, Phoebe Beacon, Karita Landry, Bart Allen, Meggan Puceanu




John Constantine has posed:
    It's just about mid-afternoon, the Laughing Magician hasn't been open terribly long, but long enough to draw in a few stragglers. The place typically isn't hopping until closer to the midnight hour, it's part and parcel with the usual clientele that.

    John must have found some sort of stop-gap bandaid to his current demon curse issues - or maybe Phoebe's working overtime, because he's in his usual spot; that stool no one really ever wants to sit in. As per the *always*, the normal fare is on the bar in front of him - A pack of Silk Cuts, one lit in the ashtray, a bottle of scotch and a glass of the same.

    Chas is behind the bar, tending to it and polishing glasses. Every once in a while, the man shoots a side-eye in John's direction. It's not a happy side-eye either, it's daggers, it truly is. That's never good.

    The jukebox, also per the always, is crackling and hissing vinyl versions of classic and punk rock singles. Over all, it's a day ending in Y, innit?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe absolutely has been playing stop-gap, and other than food runs or an errand hasn't left the vincinity of the bar for long. Including when she comes in form the outside, taking the six steps down, tucking an umbrella under her arm and delivering a bag with limes and oranges to the counter like a good runner. "Hey Chas. Afternoon John." she states to the owners. Today her hair is unbraided, and just pulled back into a puff of a ponytail. She sees the daggers being glared, and then purses her lips, and points "Just going to grab a booth and get some homework done. In case I'm needed to patch anything." she states, and grabbing up her messenger bag and absconding to a table with her notebooks.

Karita Landry has posed:
Outside the Laughing Magician: In whatever parking exists there is a small electric vehicle which has been sitting for some time. The plain white hue of the car is decorated with a number of stickers, everything from a British call box, to dragons, unicorns, a tie fighter shooting down a running family of stick people, and other assorted items. The driver has been sitting there for some time, perhaps even before the bar opened.

It isn't unusual in this day and age for someone to be talking to themselves, but the driver? Karita? She's been talking to herself the entire time. Perhaps she's on speaker phone, or maybe she has blue-tooth, or maybe she's learning a new language on one of those apps.

Occasionally, she'll swivel her form just enough to look at the back seat, and then cast her gaze back to the front. Finally, Karita's hands hit the steering wheel and with a decisive expletive, the door opens up and the blonde exits.

A step, two, three, and she pauses - turns back around, opens up the car door, and proceeds to pull a large gallon freezer bag filled with what looks like a white substance (perhaps salt) from the car, then once again turn around, close the door, lock it and head towards the pub.

Another couple of steps and Karita's carefully maneuvering herself down the stairs and into the pub, where the blonde pauses at the bottom of the steps and takes in a deep breath. "Oh. Boy."

She's dressed - for the record - in a tye die shirt, jeans that have patches of Anime influenced stickers on them, and a French Braid that is tied back with an enormous black scrunchy.

Bart Allen has posed:
Bart Allen as heard one of his friends has been hanging out here, and figured it was about time, he came to check on her. The young man comes walking up towards the place, having stopped the previous block to change back into normal clothes, jeans and a t-shirt with the Need For Speed car and logo on it. The young man hopes they don't check IDs, but if they do he has ways to get around it. Once inside, he will head towards the bar, looking around the place as he does. Bart is a very subtle person, and once he sees Phoebe, he smiles at her and waves.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan probably just woke up. A nap between courses in the morning and obligations later in the afternoon and evening captures the sleep needed, available in short supply. She ought to spend more time at the Empire Club over the Laughing Magician, but apparently becoming a de facto business owner or bartender in Hell's Kitchen.

Not bad for an environmental activist used to setting noses out of joint for governments and big corporations.

A croissant in hand, the blonde halts on the sidewalk. She can feel the burn of broken concrete, patched up. The building with the shattered seal behind the Laughing Magician isn't fixed, either. Maybe someone took care to hide the obvious cuneiform pattern. If they haven't, it's a glaring reminder day after day.

In she goes, then, raising a hand to her brow. Half-hidden croissant happiness awaits to be munched on as she heads in after Bart and Karita. An obscure British band t-shirt and jeans aren't remarkable. The wards probably wiggle around her, and she shrugs, ears turning pointed rather than safely round.

John Constantine has posed:
    His eyes narrow in regards to Phoebe's greeting, still pissy, yes he is. John's attention swings to the door, but his faded denim blues skip over Bart to land on Karita. It's not even the gallon jar that draws the intensity in that gaze. That's not a signature his wards have ever kicked at him, but it's one he's faintly familiar with. "Huh," he whispers to himself before he downs the glass of scotch at his elbow in one quick motion.

    The place serves food during the day, if very basic fare, so only needs to card for alcohol, doesn't change the fact that Bart has Chas' attention, if only because of Bart's attention to Phoebe. Who, by the way, got a pretty cheery, for Chas, wave of a greeting and, "S'up, kid?" when she entered.

    "Let me venture a guess, luv," John offers, loud enough to carry and obviously aimed at Karita. "... that isn't for cookin'? Got somethin' buried in it that you think you need protectin' from? Came lookin' for help with it all?" A little short, but not snippy really, just tired, those words. A little of that tired looks like it fades when Meggan walks through the door even though John's eyes never leave Karita.

Karita Landry has posed:
Still at the bottom of the stairs, the gallon freezer bag full of salt in a jar is jiggled slightly, mostly for Karita to make sure the item inside is still there, before her gaze begins to sweep the interior of the establishment.

Sharp green eyes scan from table, to table, to person, to person pausing on the individual seated on the stool.

Unable to stop herself, Karita's nose wrinkles upwards, in her mind's eye she's once again revisiting the images she procured from the item INSIDE said bag of salt. And that person on the bar stool? That's them.

The expression 'play it cool', echoes inside Karita's head a few dozen, thousand times. Yet, all of Karita's wondering on how to approach the topic isn't necessary - for the individual is speaking - to her. How the hell did he..? One brow arches itself upwards farther than the other, as Karita stands there a bit, unsure how to even respond to that.

Finally, with a clearing of her throat and wry expression now replacing the look of complete confusion, Karita moves quietly through the establishment and deposits the jar of salt (in a gallon freezer bag) on the counter - next to Constantine, before stepping several paces backwards, almost knocking into a bar stool in the process.

"Thank you for the offer of assistance, however it is not necessary." She begins, "I found this ... lighter." She continues, clearing her throat as she tries her best to get out the words without just dumping the item and running. "I believe it belongs to ahm. Err." There's a brief pause, "Someone here." I just want it bleeping gone from me. Though that part, Karita just turns into an expression of intense glowering at the jar.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe completely can understand why John would still be cross with her. She's's head down in her booth, minding her own business and somehow misses Bart's entrance, until he's almost on top of her.

    " -- Bart?!" she asks, and then blinks as she rubs the back of her head.

    "... what are you doing in New York?!"

Bart Allen has posed:
Bart Allen smiles and says "Well I do have classes at Empire State University." He reminds her, and gives a reason why he is here other than (Oh I just decided to run u and check on ya.) He will smile and says "Hope your not to busy, I thought I would see what you were up to since I was in the area." He reaches into hic pocket, and pulls out a brown bag and offers it to Phoebe "Picked these up, thought you might want to try them, if they help, I can get you some more."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
No point in warning others about the natures of warlocks, especially those working mostly on the street. The recommendations never stick. It takes experience firsthand to really get what it means to have someone look up and expect you, know your name, or offer a blunt assessment with none of the cultured blandishments you'd get from someone else.

Or Meggan pointedly turns a green-eyed look at the man occupying the bolted stool and beams nothing short of positive wattage directly at him. Brilliance contained in a shining gaze that doesn't even have to turn her mouth up in a smile could serve as a reproving measure against his grouchiness. But what fun would that be? Instead, it's simply a wave of human-shaped sunshine headed over him.

Not literally. The room is brighter near her, but that's a small manner. "Are you about to pop out to deal with work?" she asks. The lifting smile at her lips shakes off sleep. Sleepiness that vasts a faint veil goes washing away, bit by bit.

"Hullo, Phoebe. Hello, Phoebe's friend! You are Phoebe's friend? I'll let you two be, but wonderful to meet you!" Her accent is English muddled by a lot of Celtic undertones, definitely not standard London. Bart gets the same sunshine-laced tone. "Rather than totally interrupt Karita and John playing at salty business, she directs a little wave to them.

John Constantine has posed:
    Both of John's eyebrows shoot up, he glances away from Karita only long enough to shoot a look in Meggan's direction. Chas nearly drops the glass he's polishing.

    Karita's hit a nerve it seems.

    But John only allows that poker face to fail him for a split before it's back in place. "A lighter you say?" he asks innocently, bordering on disinterested. "C'mon with it then, lets dig it out." ...and hope the damned thing still works after all it. "Where'd you find it?" He gestures for Karita to approach and put the jar on the bar.

    Inside, he's positively vibrating with anxious energy, on the outside he's cool as can be. ... for the moment.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Hello Meggan. This is Bart. Bart. Meggan. The one behind the counter is Chas, and ah--" she looks to the man at the end of the bar with John's feigned disinterest and attention on the lighter in the car... is there a lighter in the jar? Well...

    "That's John, who's busy at the moment. Chas's my roommate and John's the landlord. I just kinda exist between some very thin lines at the moment." she explains as a way to say 'don't ask, it's complicated'.

    Phoebe looks down into the bag, and pulls out a bone-shaped treat. She purses her lips, and gives a slight grin.

    "For Scout, I assume. They're a bit big for MurderMittens."

Karita Landry has posed:
Karita is not ... completely oblivious when it comes to reading living people. She can read ghosts fairly well, too. And when there is that shuffling of sound coming from the bar as the individual there nearly drops a glass, and then the absolutely seemingly unphased Constantine's brows shooting upwards. Yeah. Well. Karita has some understanding of the why. She's SO glad she decided to not listen to Andy or her dead parents when returning this particular item and instead burying it behind Trinity Church. Which was VERY MUCH in the cards.

Although Constantine may be cool as a cucumber now, Karita noticed! She did! To the brilliant Meggan, Karita offers the warmth of a smile in return followed by a quiet, "Hello."

And then Karita's clearing her throat, hopping up onto a bar stool to dangle her legs downward, gesturing at the jar and the salt and the zippo inside with a shake of her head. "So I was ... there was a lost kitten in an alley way not far from New York University - towards the more dingier side of town versus the .. you know, better one. It was situated under a dumpster there. I'm not sure on the restaurant it was next to, but they had really smelly sandwiches." As though that explains EVERYTHING.

Turning her gaze onto Constantine, Karita's eyes narrow. "It had the inscription of here, as well as 'John', so I thought it might hold, ah. Uhm. Significance." Sputter. Stutter. Stutter.

Bart Allen has posed:
Bart Allen nods his head a bit and says "We had a class about senior animals, and the teacher was telling us about a new type of treat, it should help his joints, and has a very slight pain reliever in it, that is specially for joints, so should let him to jump and climb a bit easier. Said also has things in it to help his coat and such, if it helps two a day should be about right for him with his size, age, and breed. " He look stop Meggan, and offers her hand, and says "Yea, she comes to the Zoo where I work every time we have new baby animals. "He looks over to Phoebe "The cheetahs are doing really well."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Bart offering her hand stops Meggan from weaving off to the bar. She gives his hand a momentary check like he might hold something in it, just in case. Talking about dog treats, presumably, and now cheetahs, it's only fair. Then she extends hers to give a proper shake. "You work at the zoo? You have baby *cheetahs?*"

They might have a +1 to the cheetah exhibit, but maybe best not to fuss about it right now. Even if her eyes are wide and that smile even bigger. "Do you *work* with them? Or did you get to see them? Phoebe, you never said anything about baby cheetahs or other little animals! They need all the help they can get to return to their natural environment and having a healthier breeding population is so important."

Already the social media posts are probably starting to crop up among her vast body of followers. The post almost writes itself in her head. A second or two later, she's going to have her phone and something appopriately linked, though the actual zoo in question-- "Where is this at?" matters.

Her head tilts still, and a good chance the conversation with Chas, Karita, and John reaches her a lot clearer than she lets on. Smelly sandwiches, bad part of town, not many of those in proximity to ye old New York University. The tale still earns a soft murmur, her mouth rounding. But kitties. Or a lighter. Kitties. Lighter.

"Chas, would you give her a drink as a finder's fee? Isn't that how these things go?" she offers merrily.

John Constantine has posed:
    Maybe he should have thought more about naming the bar what he did, but wasn't the reason so people needing it could find him?

    Quick, like a snake striking, John reaches out to grab Karita by the wrist. "Where did you GET it?" he asks again, as if maybe he doesn't believe her story, or maybe he's just making sure she can stick to it; that it's believable and honest under 'pressure'.

    "John," short, snapped out, down boy, down. It's from Chas. "Let her go."

    ...but for now, the Laughing Magician, the bar's namesake, has only eyes for Karita, only ears for the tales she tells about a beloved gift lost under mysterious circumstances along with a pack of Silk Cuts that showed back up spelled the night a succubus dared attack him in his own home.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a smile. "I'm sure he'll appreciate them." she states, sadness reaching her eyes.

    "Yeah, they had baby cheetahs. Matter of fact, someone tried to kidnap them one day and a bunch of superheros showed up and stopped them while some speedy guy made sure no one got hurt. But yeah, baby cheetahs, big litter of six and--" she pauses, and when John reaches out to grab Karita, Phoebe tenses a moment, her eyes turning and looking to the not-so-laughing magician.

Karita Landry has posed:


For Karita - who's sitting just innocently enough on the bar stool, she never even contemplated telling a lie. Okay. Maybe stretching things a tiny bit so that no one knows that she has the ability to talk to ghosts or can see the past through touch-based psychometry. Really. She wouldn't dream of telling a lie. Nope. So when she's accused of such, with such venom, Karita's about ready to get so offended and leave in a huff, her mouth is open, nose wrinkled, brows furrowed ... when ...

John touches her wrist.

There is absolutely nothing else that Karita hears. Not Meggan's sweet gesture of getting her a drink, not the bartender telling John to let Karita go. Not even the conversation of baby cheetahs and a zoo, or dog treats. No. Karita's swept upwards in a life of the man that just triggered her psychometry in a manner that's never happened before.

She's just a mortal and what she sees defies everything. Karita's expression shifts from horror, to terror, to happiness, to sadness, to everything in between. It's seriously enough to make a normal person go completely bat-shit crazy and yet it just keeps coming.

How long does the images last? An hour? Two? Mere seconds? When it's all over, Karita's eyes are soaking with salty droplets that spill down her cheeks and pool around her mouth, dropping towards her chin. Her nose is completely a mess with snot and is a dingy shade of red. "You God Damn, mother-fucker. You fucking asshole." Jerking her hand outwards and away, Karita is stumbling off the stool, her legs managing to some how not buckle as she lands and treads backwards. "How the fucking hell do you even breath yet. How can you still stay sane. How." The fact after seeing all that and she HASN'T gone insane does give Karita some credit.

Still. She's still back peddling, as fast as her wobbly legs can carry her. "I told you where I found it, and I have no reason to lie. Take it and .." Go back to hell? No, even Karita isn't that cruel. "Choke."

Bart Allen has posed:
Bart Allen is starting to say something but stops as the man grabs the woman. He normally would be over there and between the man and the girl in less than an instant. He looks over to Phoebe, trusting her, she would not hang around with bad people. His mannerisms have changed though. The Happy go lucky young man who works at a zoo no more, but someone who is used to seeing trouble and running at it head first. He just asks "Phoebe?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan looks askance at Phoebe and Bart. Her inner lip ends up the subject of a rather convincing nibble, chewed between her teeth at the corner, all evidence to her expression draining from sunny to fair but partly cloudy. Sun-washed overcast isn't far behind.

A headache practically blooms on the spot. The curse of an empath sends faint watercolour impressions mirrored over her countenance taking on depth with proximity. Black pupils fade to a verdant shade, kelp under impossibly bright St. Elmo's fire, and she stares off past the bar. An actor going through practice in front of a mirror to achieve natural emotive expressions, except she hasn't the mirror and has no need for total extremes. It's all in the eyes, all in the slight set of the mouth that weathers a storm not of her own making.

Karita moves.

She moves not a split second after, dragged on those currents that twist and turn safely for the door. How weird that might be, but the end effect actually opens the other woman a path to retreat at speed without bumping into chairs or tables, random people. Yes, Bart would be the fastest way of sweeping trouble aside, but maybe that works too?

That or Meg is abandoning beertown for cheetahs *right* now.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Nice John, nice..." Chas mutters.

    It's not like, after the wards pinged him of Karita's nature, that John didn't half expect something like that to happen. Maybe not to such a degree that it would leave the poor thing snot nosed, but... "Never claimed to be that now did I? Sane, luv? Not even close. Now a Goddamned fucker of an asshole, I claim that rightfully so, just not the mother part, she's dead. I'm not into necrophilia."

    He settles more comfortably onto his stool and mentions, "You can learn, you know, to control it. Rather than it controlling you. Your choice, luv... you know where to find me should you decide you'd rather control your own life." He picks up the jar and turns it over in his hands once, but doesn't yet spill its contents all over to get at the lighter inside. Maybe he's afraid to, maybe he's thankful for the salt around it? Maybe it's best, under the circumstances, to bust the thing in a circle of protection? Or maybe he's just loathe to make a mess all over the place...

    He pours himself another drink and downs it as smoothly as the last. Bottle's already over half gone and it's barely dinner time, not even actually.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe holds her hand out to Bart. The young woman with her curly-poof hair looks to Bart, and shakes her head. "It's okay, Bart." Phoebe states, with the utmost calm. "Just stay calm."

    Maybe she didn't want a repeat of the last time everyone had a proper freakout around Meggan... of course, no one's body parts are turning to soup at the moment. John's response, though, does earn him something between a glare and a look of sympathy as she puts her hand down.

    "Tactile phototelepathy?" she questions in an even voice, looking between the reteating Karita, the moving Meggan and the calmly drinking John.

Karita Landry has posed:
Her cheeks flame, burning an intense hue even as Karita does her level best to retain some manner of dignity - but fails that miserably. Without a sound after her outburst, the petite five-foot two figure turns and walks out of the pub. She should thank Meggan for the assistance - if Karita could string two words together right now, or even understood the swiftness the sweet bright bit of sunshine gave her. As it is, however, Karita will most likely be having nightmares which are not her own for awhile.

Thankfully, Karita does not stumble going up the stairs, even if her legs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds each, before she's out the door and heading towards her vehicle. "Not NOW MOM." Is the words she gives to seeming air, as the electric car starts up and speeds off faster than a New York taxi cab.

Bart Allen has posed:
Bart Allen frowns a bit and looks down to Phoebe "You ok?" He asks looking concerned for her, and then over at John again. Most of the "magic" Bart is used to is future tech not magic. "What is that? Tactical telekinesis, I know what that is, but that was not that." He frowns a bit more, and "This guy is helping you?" He looks to Phoebe "If they are making you stay, you know I will stop them."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Emotions are like liquor, except they actually work. Pity the stock that the Laughing Magician has is only good on the first sip for the Tuath de Danaan. Not being able to get giggly inebriated on schnapps or mixed vodka drinks is one of the great ironies of life, given the job as a mixologist supreme. Or rather, overglorified and underpaid bartender.

Right now, she's working through the equivalent of a Car Bomb, four Jaegermeister shots, moonshine from a questionable still, a Corpsegrinder, a Corpse Reviver, and possibly half the mead in Asgard. The strong stuff. The stuff Odin keeps specifically for the days when Loki does Thor things and Thor is a thor sport.

"She's not made to do anything, not in a million years." The distant tone isn't waifishly giggling. It's swimming upstream from a faraway island, soft but perfectly clear. "No one'd force or lock up a friend."

She's forgotten where the floor is. This isn't particularly an issue, given she floats.

John Constantine has posed:
    "She's right, girl's free to go whenever she wants. Not like she listens to the ones tryin' to help her anyway," John quips before refilling his glass, but after he's lit another Silk and taken a drag from it. Smoke colors his words and covers his features; the latter fixed somewhere between disappointment and irritation.

    Chas grunts a sound that's incredulous and likely translates to 'pot meet kettle' and polishes glasses.

    "Some sort of psychic, that one, but I'm guessin' touch based readin' of flesh and object isn't the only thing she's capable." He can't discern *exacts* from his warding, but he can tell relative levels of power and that one was a more than just a spot of psychometry.

    He holds out hand toward Meggan, "C'mere, love." Maybe needs his brightness, maybe feels a need to ground her a bit. "Sorry 'bout that, but I had to test it." He really does give the *worst* pop-quizzes EVER, Phoebe.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    He does, honestly and truly he does.

    "... I've been helping him too." she states gently to Bart, but the chastization makes her shoulders rise up. Not precisely a conversation she wanted to have in front of Bart, and her fingers curl slightly.

    "Like I said -- John's the landlord. I'm living with Chas. John has his own place. Mostly..."

    Phoebe turns over a page in her notebook, but doesn't seem to finish her throught.

    "Scout's not doing well since he's not living with me anymore."

Bart Allen has posed:
Bart Allen looks to Phoebe, and says "I've been looking into getting a place here in town, you and scout can move in with me, if you want to Phoebe." The young man seems protective of the younger girl. He relaxes just a bit the unnatural slight buzz of electricity that seems to have built up a bit fading. "We can find a two bedroom place somewhere he in town."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
John sucks at homeschooling, especially as a graduate of the Academy of Hard Knocks and the Jerkface Collegiate. Remember that.

Meggan isn't going anywhere fast; the residual reactions from the psychometric woman still roll around in her skull faster than a pinball. Clink, clink, clank.

"Mrm?" The sound prized from her throat's a tad distracted, and she swivels a bit wobbly as a top, but her sway is flecked by righting and oooooh-- sparkly.

"New York two bedrooms are mad expensive. Even in slummy places, like two thousand quid a month." A warning little sigh traipses over her lips. "'Swhy I'm in a lighthouse." Champagne silver hair swishes behind her as she heads after John.

John Constantine has posed:
    John keeps that hand extended toward Meggan until she's close enough that he can snag her and draw her even closer. Then he just looks tired. For all his bravado and bluster, the man's just exhausted on the daily lately, still taking one hit after another and then after another.

    "Let's go home, love," he murmurs when he presses a kiss to the top of Meggan's head. Silk Cut still tucked between his lips, he slides off the stool and leaves his bottle and glass behind.

    He wags a finger in Bart's direction and offers, "She's safer here than she is anywhere else in this bloody city right now, so take your boy crush or whatever it is and forget about it until she's sorted. Even then, might want to check yourself, because she's out of your league and I'd kill you if you brought her harm."

    ...sounds a mite like something someone's father would say to a courtin' beau, doesn't it? Doesn't mean he's not still pissed though. He shoots Phoebe a glare to prove it.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "What? No, Bart, it's fine. I--" she protests as John begins to make his way out with Meggan. He deserves a rest. Phoebe's not going to pester him as he's leaving for anything, and Meggan has ways of making him listen to her counsel, just as he has a way of making her listen to his.

    And when he adds commentary to Bart, sne opens her mouth to protest, turning to regard John on his way out -- and she catches his glare. Her cheeks and ears darken and she just thinks about pulling her hoodie up, pulling the laces and hiding, for a split second.

    She takes a deep breath, and scratches at her left wrist.

    "John's right. At the moment I'm where I need to be. He's... done more to help me learn than in three years on my own. I'm safer here right now, Bart." she states quietly, and looks to her dear friend and adds, in a whisper "... maybe even safer than I ever have been."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan wouldn't know exhaustion if it punched her in the face and took her to court for robbing sleep. She stil shakes off the emotional cocktail, arranging herself to lean against John without risking the stool he so very much treats like a battered throne. Chin to his shoulder, she avoids being burnt by the cigarette. It's habit, better well be given the way the man smokes like a chimney.

"Be nice." An admonishment given while hauling on other ambient emotions to right herself has no teeth, but popping up like a sailboat takes a little. "They're happy. He has cheetah cubs to look at. I'd be over that like spots on a cat." That is a cheetah, Meggan. Good grief.

She more or less cracks a yawn, stifled behind her hand, and waves sort of at Phoebe and Bart. The surest way to make someone else sleep? Be sleepy yourself?

No one ask why there's a long-legged savannah hunter sunning itself on the roof later.

Bart Allen has posed:
Bart Allen frowns and says "You hurt her, and there will be no place you can hide. She is my friend, and if I find out she comes to harm because of you." Then at Phoebe's words he frowns a bit and suddenly he is just no longer there a breeze going through the room.

John Constantine has posed:
    John barks out an actual laugh at Bart. "Boy," he begins before the guy's gone. He finishes even after, "... you have *no idea* who you're fucking around with." He wraps an arm around Meggan's shoulder and starts toward the back room with her in tow. Over his shoulder he calls out, "Phoebe, think maybe the undersides of the tables need checked for gum!"

    "....John." Long suffering Chas. He snags the salt filled jar from the bar and puts it behind for the moment.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a sad look to Bart's once-there-ness, and she rubs the back of her head, and then heaves a sigh and stands, looking to Chas.

    "Don't suppose you got a putty knife or scraper back there? Pretty sure I'm still on the shit list." she states, and scratches on her cheek. "With good reason." she admits to Chas, and then tiiiiilts over to see if there's any gum under the table she had been sitting at.

    "... /ew/."