7780/Sitting Vigil

Sitting Vigil
Date of Scene:	10 September 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Phoebe Beacon

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John Constantine has posed:
    It was just after dawn when Chas got the message from John that the magician wouldn't be coming home between his trip to a field in England and the battle that would begin in Mexico. He'd being doing straight from one to the other.

    ...and ten minutes later, Chas was downstairs in the bar, unable to sleep and needing something to do. Really, those glasses are going to be polished to nothing. He's already finished everything else that needed doing so that's all that's left; that and keeping a watchful eye on a little sprout planted in a highball glass.

    Keeping in tune and step with John's last minute party the night before, the jukebox is still set to 70s pop.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It had been a quick exchange a little longer than an hour ago ago. Phoebe should have been home, for qualities of home = the Bar. Even if she decided to hit up the bodega accross town she liked with the avocado sandwiches, it shouldn't have been this long. The Dead were standing.

    The door opens, and a voice that Chas isn't familiar with would ring out:

    "What do you MEAN you live in a /bar/?"

    And in comes Phoebe, helping someone using a cane down the stairs. The woman's strawberry blonde hair was short, and stylied nicely -- even though it was patchy a bit on the right side of her scalp. She was wearing sunglasses, and was the pale of someone who spent most of her time idoors and on computers. She was wearing a loose-fitting pair of slacks and a blouse.

    "No, Mom, I live *above* the bar. I work in the bar. Part time. For lessons." Phoebe explains, and she Visibly Winces as she looks to Chas.

    Caroline Beacon is a tall lady, and in her youth must have been stunningly beautiful. Her skin is a bit red and raw to the side of her face, evidence of skin grafts that are still healing, and she looks bewildered and mildly upset and really, quite confused.

    ". . . well." she states, looking around. "At least it's clean."

John Constantine has posed:
    Cleanest shit hole pub in Hell's Kitchen even. Chas, even when he's not trying to keep his mind occupied and off matters of John's potential demise or the end of the world, the cabbie does take a bit of pride in the place.

    He settles the glass he'd been polishing down when the door opens, looks up when that unfamiliar voice rings out. His eyebrows shoot up and, inwardly, he might groan a little. A least it's inward not outward, had it been John at the stool, it would have been way more obvious.

    He plants on a smile that's real and genuine, mostly, but worry and nerves keeps it from being as warm as it normally might be. "Mrs. Beacon, then?" He takes a guess. "Welcome to the Laughing Magician. Can I get you anything?" His look in Phoebe's direction is a little 'WUT?!'

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe makes a face back at Chas, a very obvious wince on her face in apology as she mouths 'it's safer!'

    "Caroline, yes." Caroline replies, looking at Chas a moment, and then turns to Phoebe.

    "Mom, this is Chas. He's one of the owners of the bar. Chas, this is my mom Caroline, she ah..." she pauses "I couldn't leave her at home, alone. Not tonight."

John Constantine has posed:
        "Of course not," Chas is quick to agree before he wipes his hands, that are already clean enough, on a towel. He moves that little highball glass and it's little sprout a bit closer and studies it a moment or two. Has it grown? Does anything look different. He breaths out a sigh of somewhere between resignation and frustration before his attention turns back up to Phoebe and her mother.

    "Could prove to be a long night, can I get you anything? I could run upstairs and get something started for dinner." Because he's not feeding Phoebe's mother the same stuff that seems to make Simon so happy.

    "He's already in Mexico," he offers next, more for Phoebe's benefit than Mom Beacon's of course.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I got it, Chas. I'd grabbed some stuff the other day, and I figured he would be. Did he get the envelope?" Phoebe questions, her eyebrows rising up, and she turns and scoots up the other stairs to get to the apartment to grab items.

    Caroline, meanwhile, gives a momentarily sound of disbeleif, and then sits on a stool. She looks Chas in the eye, a woman more used to contending with the fiendish and fresh (which would be public school fifth-through-eighth graders), and then hangs her cane on the bar.

    "Whiskey, neat, please." she asks, and looks after where Phoebe's gone.

    "... she's been so secretive for the past three years. Can't get a straight answer out of her, and then suddenly she's living in New York City and taking private lessons from some sort of professor for her GED."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Neat it is," Chas agrees before making that happen. His gaze drifts off in the direction that Phoebe went as well, stays there for a moment and the back to Mrs. Beacon.

    Chas, the keeper of all the secrets... unless he feels they're better off not kept? "Want a little advice?" he asks, but it's rhetorical because he continues without an answer. "Keep an open mind, open heart and open eyes. That girl of yours? She's got the spark in her. She's in the right place if she's going to learn how to use that spark."

    It's rare that Chas drinks when he's behind the bar, but this night's a little different, isn't it? He pours his own, scotch though, not whiskey and he adds the rocks if only because he *is* behind the bar and tonight's going to be a long one... little added water might not be a bad thing, lest he drink himself stupid.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I lost my husband to being a hero. I just worry she's out there trying to be Batman or something without... needing to be." Caroline admits, and she accepts the whiskey. She sips it, and gives a small frown.

    "How many sixteen year old girls show up with superheros in tow? Or sneak out of windows and then she was kidnapped and got out because someone other than the Gotham Police showed up?" Caroline states in exasperation, and then she looks at Chas.

    "You have kids?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "I do, a daughter. She's not hit the teenage years yet but she isn't far off." Chas begins at the last, the easiest. He takes a little sip from his glass and rattles it the ice about in it a bit with a shake before tackling any of the rest.

    "There's always a need for it, Mrs. Beacon, always." He can't help it when his gaze shifts to John's empty stool. He also can't help the urge to reach over the bar and put that silly little sprout in the highball glass on the stool.

    "Sorry, just trying to do everything I can to help a friend," he offers when it's done. "She's young, yes but she has a relatively good head on her shoulders, she's smart as a whip. But she's more than that, you know that right? That's she's 'more than'?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "They always get so weird as teenagers." Caroline states, and she gives a small smile. "Call me Carrie." she smiles, and she frowns. "Yes, I do know. She's always been just... more than. Completely unafraid of strangers. We had to stop her from climbing out of the house and talking to the birds because she started climbing the trellis on the outside of the house. She had imaginary friends who glowed." she rubs the back of her neck.

    "Do you... mean she's a mutant?" she frowns, "Is that why she knows that speedy kid?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "Carrie then," Chas agrees before he looks down into his glass and swirls that ice around a bit more. When he looks back up, he offers a helpless little shrug. "I don't know, I mean I guess it could be part that, but it's not all that. If it was... the friend I'm trying to help out likely wouldn't be much help, but he seems to think he can be. Already taught her a few things, would likely be more if there wasn't so much else going on."

    Another sip, the glass lowered, a pause, lengthy and thoughtful. "My friend, he's a magician, not like the ones you see on a stage in vegas sawing women in half. Sorcerer, wizard, mage. His specialty is actually exorcisms, but he's more than just that. Knows a little about everything on that side of things and if he saw fit to take your daughter under his wing, she's special because he's a straight asshole that typically doesn't take on 'students'."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Carrie blinks.

    "That's... interesting." Carrie states, and she frowns, and she looks into her glass and decides 'meds be damned' and just drinks it down, and then sets her glass back on the counter.

    "So you're telling me that my daughter is some sort of... mage, sorcerer, magic girl." she states, her eyes narrowing a moment, and she purses her lips. Chas would be able to see the tightening of the scar tissue along the side of her head. "And she's not studying for her GED, but following some guy who says he's a wizard. Is he behind the emancipation papers? Is that why she decided that living at home was too good for her and she had to couch surf off college students until she landed in NYC to work at a *bar*?" she asks, because even with the dead standing outside, and Phoebe's odd insistance that Carrie come.

    There's a THUMP upstairs, followed by an 'ow!'

John Constantine has posed:
    "No, she did that to protect you," Chas replies simply. "Just like he would have," a nod toward the empty stool. He doesn't just 'say' he's a wizard, Mrs. Bea... Carrie." He might sound a little defensive, maybe even a lot. It's *John*, it just brings it out in him.

    "The rest of it isn't mine to tell, that bit wasn't really, but sometimes a secret shouldn't be one. When John gets back, I'm sure he'd be willing to talk to you more once he clears it with your daugh..."

    Words cut off, Chas looks up, but only briefly before he's over the bar and heading out because out leads to stairs outside and UP. "Phoebe!?!" he calls out along the way, concern loud and clear, caring and concern.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'm okay! John almost fell off the windowsill!" she calls down, and then she makes her way down, holding of all things an ancient looking crockpot. It's brown and that 1980's avocado color.

    It's perfectly hideous. Smells good, though.

    She shakes her hand out, probably she caught the cactus.

    Caroline mouths 'John?' in concern, and then takes a breath as Phoebe comes back down, the Jukebox deciding to switch over songs. https://open.spotify.com/track/3atXF2eAOpkbcxLN1nGlW1?si=eac4fde7e6254f8a

    "It's... veagan, but it's good. I promise. Firehouse chili, medium-hot." she gives a smile, and she hops on the stool by her mom.

    Carrie takes a deep breath, and looks to her daughter in concern.

    "... are you *sure* you don't want me to schedule an appointment with Dr. David?" she asks incredulously.

    Phoebe's ears darken.

    "Reeaaally mooooom?!" she asks.

John Constantine has posed:
    Chas stops in his tracks when Phoebe calls out that she's okay. "Yeah, it's the cactus she has upstairs in honor of my friend. Suits, he can be a prickly bastard." His feathers are all sorts of ruffled though, but the way Phoebe's mother's acting. He's not dumb, he can guess what 'Dr. David's' specialty might be.

    "Did you know your daughter can heal people," he asks bluntly and no longer caring about what should or shouldn't be said. "That's she's saved lives. She saved John's, not only did she save his but she learned to do something that doesn't come easy or naturally for her in order to do so, so she wouldn't hurt him? You should be proud of her, not suggesting she see a damned therapist."

    A lot of his snippy could be to do with John being in the situation he's in right now, could have something to do with the bit about the potential end of the world. But much of it is just simply do to how much he's grown to care about Phoebe, love the kid even. He's seen John go through the 'you sure you don't need a shrink' bullshit, he's not letting it happen here.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "She's a seventeen year old child who has had severe trauma in her life. She was expelled from highschool because she broke a poor girl's nose and then another young man's shoulder. My daughter is *sick*, and now some body is fueling her delusion to hang out with... with superheros and get herself hurt all over again. I won't have it. Monday I'm calling the courthouse and seeing if I can have your emancipation released, this is rediculous--" Carrie starts out. "I never should have let you stop taking the--"

    "I healed you so that your grafts would take quicker and with less pain. That's why I visit you after your appointments." Phoebe interrupts, and sits there, eating a bowl of very beany chili, bringing her dark eyes up.

    "... I've been able to heal since I was fourteen."

John Constantine has posed:
    There's no better way to shock a person to the truth of it than visible evidence. Before Mum Beacon has much of a moment to protest, Chas has a knife from behind the bar. It's not a shallow cut he makes when he drags it over his own palm, it's deep and bloody... nerve deep, permanent damage deep. It's deep enough to make the stoic bloke cringe, make his eyes water.

    It's a John move through and through, that. ...and proof to Chas's own mental state with all else that's happening. "Phoebe," he grits out between clenched teeth, holding that bloody hand open; cut near to bone. "Would you, please?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Nng-- Chas what are you--" Phoebe protests, and she automatically switches into her own medic mode, reaching first for a towel because *blood everywhere* is bad.

    Caroline Beacon looks ABHORRANTLY HORRIFIED. She takes a step abck, almost falling off the stool as Chas gouges his own hand.

    Phoebe can actually not recall if she's... ever healed Chas before. She closes her left hand around his fingers, and reaches for Chas's wrist.

    Focus. Feed the healing magic. Chas's hand would go numb, almost like it's fallen asleep. BEcause she's keeping the circuit small, most of that tingling, needles feeling would be held in the hand -- though it drifts up his arm, like cold water running the wrong way through his veins, lacing against the skin.

    The blood vessels knit. The muscle fibers reach out to one another and grasp as the muscles, and then the dermal layer, and then epidermal layer join.

    "Jesus /Christ/ in Heaven!" Carrie states... and then slowly seems to collapse in on herself, and faint.

    Phoebe leeaaans over.

    "... well. I mean. Direct route."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Ayup, it was that." But he had faith, knew Phoebe wouldn't let him lose use of his hand. Once Mrs. Beacon is down for the count, he moves around the bar to lift her ever so gently and start toward the loft. "Phoebe, door and grab the plant from the stool!"

    He'll even be kinder than John would be and make sure she doesn't 'bump her head' on the way up. Then it's just a waiting game for when the woman wakes, innit? Should be fun.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe trusts Chas with her mom. She would probably not trust John with her mom.

    And she hops up to lock and bar the door -- making sure there was no one waiting to come in -- and goes to grab the little hope plant on the stool.

    It' sjust going to have to hang out on the counter, unto the purple grow-light, with Phoebe's version, in the cheery yellow flowerpot.