7750/PoP: Liverpool Thinnings

PoP: Liverpool Thinnings
Date of Scene:	08 September 2021
Location:	Candle, Booke and Belle
Synopsis:	John and Paul go to check out Liverpool. Ringo is missing, but they do get to play St. George.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Nettie Crowe

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John Constantine has posed:
    They almost made it to actually eating breakfast... almost.

    John covers the phone to say, "No time for it, love," before he places it back to ear and mouth. "Aye, I got it. How long ago? ... I'll handle it. I'll be home tonight." He tosses the phone down on the bed and forces himself out of the warmth and comfort of it. By the hurried nature he dresses, the immediate need of whatever Chas told him is painfully obvious, as is the indecision written all over his face as he dresses, eyes on Paulie the entire time.

    Seems there's no time for a shower either. It'll have to wait. Not the first time. He typically manages before he's completely rank though.

    "I gotta go, Paulie, another of those tears opened, it's active, in Liverpool. Chas said it looks like its location is dead center of the three you sent me." ...a beat, two, three while he's pulling on those socks, seated at the edge of the bed, still shirtless all tattoos and scars, the visible evidence of his hard life and all that suffering.

    "Come with me..." he speaks the words before he even knows he's doing so and quickly backtracks with, "No... no, I'm sorry, this isn't your problem." ...but come with me, no don't want you hurt by it... but come with me... no... can't do it to him. ... but come with me. It's all there, right on the surface in both expression and emotions.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Paul Ramsey raises his eyebrows as he looks at John, and hands over the clothing, nice and neat. Paul gets dressed for the day, and he gives a slight smile. "If you'd like. You know, out of professional curiosity. An' having a detective about who can flash a badge to get you into places -- or out of places -- isn't too bad. But if you'd rather I stay --" he trails off a moment and looks to John.

    "You could have someone drawn over. I'm sure neither Nettie or Chas will mind." he offers, stepping into the kitchen a moment.

    "I have one of those breakfast shakes if you want. They taste a bit of chalk, but we've had worse."

John Constantine has posed:
    John's about half dressed, everything on but his shirt isn't tucked in, he's got a button or to wrong, his tie's just hanging around his neck, when he steps toward Paul. His brow furrows a little, his bottom lip juts out just so for a second before find its proper place again. He reaches up to place a hand on the fallen angel's cheek, thumb brushing lightly in a little circle there.

    "Paulie you know leaving you behind... it's never been a matter of what I'd rather, don't you?" he asks. It's always been a matter of 'necessary', not want or even need; at least in his mind. But there's no time for it now.

    He drops his hand and turns. A word or two under his breath and the portal to that Wretched House opens; always the quickest route from A to B when B needs to be gotten in a hurry.

    He holds out a hand. "Come with me, but you need to go first, portal'll only close right up as soon as I'm through." Could be Paulie's first experience with the House, or at least the door that opens at John's beck and call.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    What, Paul's doesn't open at John's beck or call?

    Paul gives a smile, his hand reaching out to brush his palm over John's shoulder, and he gives a smile, leaning over and touching his forehead lightly to John's.

    "I know. I can't do this full time... and you'd make a piss-poor housewife." he smiles. The understanding was there, and he glances up as John gives those magic words. Paulie takes a deep breath, and then looking to John as if unsure how things would react to a fallen angel, he pauses a moment to fix John's shirt and button it right, and then passes through the portal to the house.

John Constantine has posed:
    In one side and out the other with nothing but a brief step through the parlor. Whateer John was expecting to happen when he stepped through, it definitely wasn't *that*.

    The size of a bus and a half or so, its skin is dark green and mottled, long spiky tail, little short legs, lizard-ish looking head and... scales.

    Is that a fuckin' dragon?! That is a fuckin' dragon. John barely has time to think the words before he's forced to get over the shock and surprise of them when it breathes a jet of flame in the direction of him and Paulie. Eyes wide, he claps his hands together and holds both out, one palm in, one out, fingers pointing in and then flips them both palms out, fingers point up. He mutters something under his breath and at the last second, before both of them are hit with that, a barrier forms to stop it.

    "Mother *fuck*, it's a fuckin' dragon!" he finally gets to voice his earlier disbelief forced into belief by the reality of it.

    Time to figure out the area, it's barely big enough for the thing and them to fit, or at least for the thing to fit. It's a courtyard of sorts, taking up about a block of the street and situated between four tall buildings; apartments that were likely nice in their day and no gone to shite.



    Still holding the barrier in place to try and figure his next move, he calls out, "Paulie! I left Excalibur at home!" He's joking right? Or is he? He has to be.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Paul Ramsey does not doubt that of all people, John Constantine has Excalibur.

    He looks actually rather surprised as they come across a dragon. He opens his mouth, and was about to voice his own disbelieve when John took the words right out of his mouth, and he ducks behind the smaller man.

    "Yes, John, that is a dragon." he states, and he breathes out. His eyes narrow, and he shifts his weight before he lifts John, bodily, and turns around , feeling the fire on his back, burning through wool and polyester and cotton shirt, to a pair of old scars at his shoulders.

    A fallen angel, after all, still has wings. There is a mighty sound of air rushing as Paul wraps his arms around John's waist, and with a leap brings John up to a rooftop to get him out of the flames.

    "What do you have on you?" he questions, running through his own bag of tricks.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Not much," John replies. Of course it's not like he isn't a wealth of spells just in of himself without the need for having anything else on him, right? "See that spot," he points off toward a small alleyway, barely big enough for the thing to fit through. "We need to get it to go there."

    The dragon ... it's a fuckin' dragon, turns attention to where the men are now. Everyone else has fled the area, smart people those. "Then I need to close it!"

    It's about that time, that it swings it's long ass tail around and up with speed one wouldn't think possible of such a lumbering monstrosity. It's aiming to swipe them both off the roof.

    And John's too busy pointing 'over there' to notice it in time. All he can manage is widened eyes and a 'fuck this is gonna hurt' groan.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Paulie gives a grit of his teeth as he looks at the alley, and then sees the oncoming tail.

    He steps forward, and with a hum of an old spell -- after all, his first tongue was Enochian -- the tail gives a meaty WHACK against a force wall.

    "Go." Paul states, his eyes glowing golden white, and he steps forward. At his side, summoned, is a steely beam of light and steel, a spear. His other arm summons a shield, and this knight of the heavens strides forward.

    "I've not faced one in many a year, but I think I've still got it." Paulie states, and with a flap of his wings, the fallen Angel glides forward, a deep barritone voice humming as he keeps his own ward up.

    His handprint on John's shoulder glows. It tingles.

John Constantine has posed:
    "You are so gettin' laid again tonight," John quips once the dust settles from the near tail lashing. Does that mean he's staying another night? Probably not, duty calls and all it. But it's fun to dream it.

    It's a little known fact that John can actually fly, sorta. That is to say he can levitate himself in a mostly straight up and down fashion without much effort and with just a minor cantrip of a spell cast.

    He floats to the ground and tries to make himself look... not so much a snack for the scaly beast. That is to say, he keeps to the shadows of the buildings in his effort to sneak a little closer to make the closing of the thing easier.

    Puff there, that magical dragon, attempts one last tail thwack on John and hits, just barely, it's enough to send him flying into the side of a building with a thud, but not enough to put him down and when he struggles back to his feet, his way's clear.

    ...because the thing that looks like a sexy giant swan or something, with those big old wings, has the dragon's full attention now. Maybe it likes its bird fried, because the first thing it does is belch out another of those flame jets.

    "Just drive it back Paulie," the words from John are barely a whisper but that whisper carries on the wind via magic to the Angel.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "So easy to impress?" Paul asks a little breathlessly, but yes, it's nice to dream Johnny.

    The big thing with the wings flaps, another shield coming up -- but Paul's got not a whole lot of tricks other than this. Shield up. Guard against the gout of flame. A couple feathers from already threadbare wings burn, and Paul drops the wings again, bare-backed with all of his own scars showing. He breathes out and braces, taking a step closer.

    "Back!" the knight commands the great beast, a flash of his spear, the bladed end of the pole arm making quick jabs against its foul maw.

    OK, even without wings, Detective Paul Ramsey driving back a dragon with a lance and shield? Pretty badass.

    He's going to have *so* much explaining to do if anyone's taking pictures!

John Constantine has posed:
    It's not one moment, Paulie, it's the whole package. That's what impresses.

    These things haven't proven to be the easiest things to close and John needs to wait until that thing is dead or pushed back before he competes the task. It doesn't mean he can't start now. But as soon as he starts the spell, hands stretched out toward the rift, the dragon that was engaged in what almost seems to be a battle of wills with a fallen Angel with one step forward threateningly and two back, the to forward and one back, snaps its head in the direction of the source of that magic.

    John's too wrapped up in the spell to even notice. In his defense? Despite his constant insistence that Paulie not get involved? Well, he also trusts the man to have his back completely. No matter how much it scares John to have that trust, scares him for Paulie not himself, that trust is there. %

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    THe trusts John in the same manner. Do the work, get it done, be safe. The Angel shifts his weight around, cool and calculated. Step, jab. Duck. Weave. Jab at the shoulder. Jab at the nostril. Strike the beast in pressure points and make it Hurt.

    Paul's letting John handle his end, the former knight of the firmament narrowing his blue eyes, his pupil turning gold as he channels more of what power he has remaining, into an Aura. Impressiveness. Command.

    Get. BACK.

John Constantine has posed:
    Step by grueling step, inch by inch, Paul's efforts beat back the dragon. The effort isn't without tail swipes, flaming breath, even a swipe or two of a giant clawed foot though. It isn't without threat; a thing John Constantine lives with every single day of his life.

    What a life, aye? Living day to day with fear of what's to come next.

    In the end, as long as the angel is able to keep his feet and his wits, the thing will be driven back, it'll even turn tail and run back toward that tear in reality. But not without one final, inferno of a burst of flame, that fills the near the entire courtyard area with a flash of fire. It's pissed and intent on taking the things that pissed it off out as a last defiant railing at being served an eviction notice.

    John, on his knees, ducks and covers, arms over his head. Lot of good that's going to do against the heat of a dragon's breath, right? There's not much else he can do in the moment, bouncing from one spell - a fairly difficult one - to the next in a blink with no warning and no time to regroup may be something the likes of Strange could do, but John's not that. He's just a little mage, no fancy necklace, no Gods on his side. Just a blue collar magician trying to be the last stand against *Dragons, Death Gods and Krakens*.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Dragons, Death Gods and Krakens, the hottest new tabletop coming to your home with classes like 'Real piece of work'.

    Paulie continues to push the creature back. His clothes are singed, a few burnt, scattered feathers ashing around him as his eyes narrow at the creature, and then he gives out a call of alarm. He raises his hand, dropping his spear as it clatters to the ground, cracking the pavement beneath him. The musical notes of Enochian ring through the whole of the courtyard as he commits the same sin that caused him to fall -- he interferes.

    John, as long as he's down, would find himself in a bubble, un*comfortably* warm, but the fire parts around him, protecting him even as it melts the shingles at his feet and causes his shoes to stick. Paulie is taking the brunt of the damage here, making sure John has what he needs to contain the dragon -- TIME.

John Constantine has posed:
    It does take time, John struggles here and there as well, the rift closing a few inches only to open one, a few feet, only to open one... back and forth, open and closed and finally, once the Dragon is all the way through and he's had a few moments after, the tear in reality snaps shut.

    ...and John panics. If Paulie's still standing, he'll certainly feel it. It's a massive thing, a crashing wave of it. Even without the empathy, that panic is reflected in John's voice when he yells, "Paulie?!" Momentarily blinded by that flash of fire, seeing things in nothing but blobs and shadows, the source of his panic is pretty clear. Did he just get Paul killed too?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Paulie is singed. He's also pretty fucking knackered right now, kneeling in the middle of the courtyard wit his jacket and shirt burnt away or in tatters between the fire and his wings. He reeks of burnt feathers and burnt hair, and as he kneels, his head down, he takes a deep breath of the air. Everything reeks of fire and brimstone.

    Ugh. It reeks.

    "I'm all right!" he calls back up. "Just a little burnt." he states, getting to his feet and dusting his arms off. He leans down to pick up the spear, and lifting it, sends it back to wherever he summoned it from -- probably his closet. The shield goes back as well, and Paul runs both his hands through his hair, and then shakes his head to clear the smoke from his eyes.

    "... well. That felt like shite, mate. Not going to lie."

John Constantine has posed:
    Can guilt be weighed in pounds or stones? If so, John's holding about a fuck-ton right now. He's by Paulie's side as quickly as he can manage to get there, which isn't very. He's stumbling a little with the bright spots in his vision making navigation not as much an autopilot thing as it normally might be.

    It's a little like staring at the sun too long, it'll pass.

    "I'm *sorry*, Paulie." It's rushed out and choked with emotion. The bigger picture isn't even registering on his radar. A dragon's gone, so much death avoided, a tear in reality closed and they're both *alive*, an ending that would not have been the same if John had come here alone. No, he'd either be a smear in the ground after falling from the building or an ash spot where he knelt casting that spell. Fate intervened, nudged him to invite Paul along rather than shut him down as he always has in the past, Synchronicity set John up for survival and a win... and everyone is still walking and talking.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Paulie gives a laugh, it's a gentle sound as he slowly comes down from using what meager powers he has left. He teeters slightly, and he catches up John, holding the man by his trenchcoated arms, and gives him a little shake.

    "Why are you sorry, John? For not expecting a dragon?" He asks, singed and shirtless and jacketless and warm to the touch, almost as warm as John is. He gives a gentle smile.

    "Don't you apologize, John. It was my decision to come, and I'm glad I did, this once, to make sure you came out on the right end of a dragon."

John Constantine has posed:
    John's shook and he *tries* to look at Paulie through sunspotted vision. It's starting to clear already, but the effort makes his eyes cross a little. He blinks a few times, able to focus better after.

    Again, the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Come to New York, Paulie. When I turn death back to where it should be, after that's over," when not if anymore, that's something, "...cross the pond, you can stay with me until you find a place. It'll just take a wee bit of a spell to land you with Major Crimes, NYPD. I *miss* you. Every fuckin' day. I push it down, try not to pay it any mind... then when I see you again it all comes back and I know what that *aching* is every day that I ignore. It's you. It's the hole where you used to be."

    Wow, that turned on a dime quick, didn't it? That's John, impulsive, passionate, a little insane... sometimes a right snarky bastard. It's John. ... and fuck but he misses his angel.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "John... I can't." Paulie states gently. "Seeing me hurt would kill you by paper cut, each one tearing at your heart, my love." Paulie smiles gently, but presses his forehead to John's. He didn't care if others would see them. They're probably still hiding from the dragon.

    "Maybe when things settle down for both our Workings, we can try again. Until then, I am yours, and you are mine, we carry those pieces of our hearts within each other and that will *never* change, John. Never." he breathes gently.

    "John. We made a choice. I cannot live this life all the time... and you can't domesticate yourself enough for my life. One or another would burn out or burn up, and I can't try to stop you, not that beautiful heart." he states gently, and presses his hand to John's chest, and then brings his blue gaze to John's faded denim.

    "We both made that decision years ago."

John Constantine has posed:
    "What bloody fuckin' difference does it make, Paulie? If you're here goin' through it with me *without* me or there going through it with me... with me?" John shoots back. He backs away and turns around starts to walk away, fists clenched at his sides, emotions all over the place.

    He stops himself though, there aren't many he'd do that for; stop all that boiling over emotion from driving him off without looking back. He turns around, but doesn't move closer. "I love you, Paul. I gotta go though, see this shite through."

    He looks, for a beat, like a little boy playing dress up in his old man's clothes. He looks *small* and so fucking sad over the things the life he leads has taken from him.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    And there Paul stands, shirtless, in the middle of this burnt mess of a courtyard after having fought a dragon, and he looks up for a moment, and then strides forward as John begins to walk. With effortless grace he picks John up. He puts him in a princess carry (because who is going to argue with him? John?), and though the wings have a few less feathers, are a little more threadbare, they still work.

    "You could con the fallen out of their own souls, John, has anyone told you you have such a dangerous pout?" he lilts as he just carries John off.

John Constantine has posed:
    Oh this is embarrassing! But what *can* he do about it? It's been said time and time again, John's really nothing but one, squishy, little mortal man. He's not a God, or a super hero... he's just a bloke from Liverpool that knows a thing or two.

    "Bloody Hell, Paulie," he grouses as holds on. "I fuckin' *hate* flying."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I know! Which is why I'm giggling hysterically on the inside!" Paul comments with absolute, positive *glee* as John holds onto him, as a shirtless angel just flies John into the next neighborhood specifically to erase the pouting.

John Constantine has posed:
    When they get where they're going, the external pouting may be mostly staved off, but the internal pain of it isn't. Never will be, never is... "I get it," he murmurs quietly, unable to look Paulie directly in the eye. So maybe John *is* still pouting externally too? It's a different sort of pout though, more grown up, sadder.

    He shrugs and rocks back on his heels a second before pushing forward onto his toes and then back flat footed again. "I wouldn't wanna be a part of my life every day either." If he had a fuckin' choice. "I'd give it all up if I could, Paulie, I swear it. But I can't. Too much debt to be paid on my end to just stand by and let the monsters win and the world die."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    He sets John down in a park -- not as many people here to see them. At least Paul remembered his wallet.

    "I /am/ a part of your life every day. Every once in a while you'll hear a song that tugs on your heart strings." he sets John down "You'll see the color of my eyes on a jacket, someone will be wearing my after shave, or something with just the right body chemistry will make you catch a whiff of my laundry. John Constantine, we are all made of the people we know. Good, bad, living, dead." he states, and he draws John into a solid hug, holding him gently lest he try to escape.

    "And you are in my life every day. A song comes on that will remind me of you. Or I'll catch a snippet of the Pistols and still check to see if it's you around a corner, waiting to coincidentally be there. I will hear about your heartaches, and carry them with you -- and your triumphs, and sing elations for you."

    He smiles.

    "One day, the work will be done. For both our parts, and who knows? Maybe then we can dance in the livingroom every night."

John Constantine has posed:
    John dosen't try to pull away and run like he might with anyone else, but he's shaking his head ever so slightly against Paulie's chest when the end of the talking comes. Then he pulls back, but just enough to look up the little bit he has to in order to look the angel in the eyes.

    Tears, silent and maybe all the more heartbreaking for their silence, streak ash born of grass and dragon's breath down his scruffy cheeks. The smile he offers in return, through those tears, is just as sad as the rest of him and resigned. "When it's done, I'll be sitting in Hell. We both know that's where it ends for me, Paulie. A cage owned by one of the three, which one's anyone's guess, tides on that shift on the daily... but it'll be one of'm. I'm okay with that. Come to terms with it a long time ago. Nice little fantasy in the dark though."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "You're not there yet, John. Paths can change. Life changes. You and our future are not set in stone." he smiles gently, but that's all he says. Paulie knows better than to make vows and promises that he's not sure he would be able to keep, but he meant it when he had said 'our' future.

    "I'll think on the move. I'll have to finish my casework and find a replacement. Hard to find someone as experienced as me in the 'weird stuff'."

John Constantine has posed:
    John steps back, walking backwards away from Paul. He shakes his head a little bit. "No, it was selfish of me to even ask, Paulie. I'm sorry." It's just that, for a fleeting second, he wanted to believe it could be so...

    It can't be because his is a path to be walked alone. He smiles that crooked little grin of his and adds, "Besides, you'd get tired of being the old ugly one in no time." He spins on the ball of his foot, whispers the magic words and steps through the portal to home without looking back.

    When it shuts behind him, a little piece of paper? Heavier than that by a little bit, some sort of thin cardboard stock flutters to the ground. Should Paulie decide to pick it up, it's a carnival ride ticket; the kinds they sell at those little travelling sorts of things. Wasn't the night they consider their first official 'date' spent at a carnival? The Ferris got them stuck at the top for over half an hour and afforded John the opportunity to steal his first kiss from a Fallen Angel.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Old ugly one -- John that's--" Paulie begins, stepping forwards, and as the Laughing Magician disappears into the portal.

    "... cheeky." he mumbles a moment, and he rolls his eyes -- until he catches the flutter of paper. Shirtless, his wings slowly fading, the fallen angel reaches down to pick up the orange piece of cardstock, and he takes a look at it. He turns it over a moment, and then looks up where the portal had closed. His lips purse, then part as he looks up.

    "... if there is any love for me left from You, please use it to watch over my John. This may be his Moment." he states, and reaches into a no-longer there jacket pocket, looks down and gives a soft '... bollocks,' and turns to walk to town to buy an overpriced tourist T-shirt and hop a train back home.

    The ticket? That's going to go right into his wallet.

John Constantine has posed:
    After the plea and before the ticket's tucked away, words appear on the blank back of the thing, fading into new until the message is delivered and it goes to blank again.

    <It will not be his end, but it may well prove to be his undoing.>

    Is one worse than the other?

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "... bloody hell, now I've got to move to protect my idiot." Paul Ramsey curses, slips the ticket into the wallet, and goes off in search of a new shirt.