7797/Celebration of Life

Celebration of Life
Date of Scene:	12 September 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Aldrif Odinsdottir, Terry O'Neil, Phoebe Beacon

---

John Constantine has posed:
    Free booze really draws a crowd, half-price, well, about half the crowd. It's not standing room only at the Laughing Magician, not yet anyway, but it's only noonish on a Sunday - are they even allowed to sell alcohol in NY? Do they care? - and the place is already pretty hopping.

    Music's back to its old fare, Punk and Classic - rock that is and John's at his usual place at the bar with all his usual stuff around him. Chas is behind the bar, serving drinks and doing all the things Chas normally does. That includes keeping a watchful eye on John, even more so than the norm.

    John himself? Well, he seems in good spirits, even laughing and having a spot of casual conversation with those around him. He might be moving a little more slowly, particularly when picking up a bottle or glass, like he's stiff and sore or such, but the world's still here, so... he'll live with whatever's causing all that.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
People simply move out of the way out of instinct. Fear instinct mostly. The woman walking toward the bar, despite wearing a pair of casual pants and a tank top, is built like a tank. At 6'2" and with muscle that would make most men jealous, the red head is an imposing figure. It doesn't help that her resting face is ten types of bitch. When she spots John, she immediately turns toward him and settles into a seat stool next to him and give shim a nod before gesturing.

"So, what is the finest drink that you have here, John Constantine?" She asks and looks at the shelf, "Nothing for nothing, John. I have completed a great task for you and this world. The cost is not high but I do expect it." She nods to him and then looks to Chaz briefly before her eyes dance along the bottles that are available, nose moving in an ever so slight wiggle, tasting the air for the aroma of what liquor might truly be the highest of quality.

John Constantine has posed:
    If there's fear in John, he certainly does not show it. He shifts himself to his feet, still moving a little slow and actually makes an attempt to wrap his arms around Angela in a friendly, grateful embrace. Of course she doesn't have to allow it to happen, but if she wants to be able to say she's experienced something few in this world ever have...

    If she does, she night notice the wince it causes him just lifting his arms to do it or even the the slight rustle of, what is that? Cellophane? Under his shirt. Or the little soft spot kind of like the thing in a newborn's head right in the middle of his chest.

    Accepting of the hug or not, Chas's reply is, "Depends on how well you can keep a secret and how well you handle your exotics." Because behind the bar, on the bottom shelf, in the back, locked in a box that seems to have no lock but most assuredly does, is a bottle of Asgardian Mead.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
A slow blink comes from Angela as she looks at John and then she looks at CHaz and then back to John. She has her arms raised up so he can hug but she's somewhat stiff to hug. She carefully pats him once on the back before she watches him move and then she clears her throat, "I." She pauses and then clears her throat.

"I am not sure that you have anything that I cannot handle, John. I could handle entering the mouth of a god eating monster and survive it well enough to reach its innards and plant your seed. I am sure I can handle whatever drink you have. If it is your best, than I will accept that." Angela then looks to the bottle, squinting at it briefly and then sneering a little, "Mead from Asgard. Part of me reviles the idea but another is curious about how good they are at making something."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"You planted /what/ /where?/"

That is the Cheshire Cat, who happens to enter the Laughing Magician at that precise time. He stays at the door frame, staring inside.

"John, I knew you said the world was going to end, but it's clear that it didn't. Now I am afraid to ask how it /didn't/ happen..."

Descending the rest of the stairs, the Cheshire Cat waves and says, "Did I interrupt something? It's only perfunctory asking because I need a soda so I'm coming in no matter what, but I figured it never hurt to ask." He flashes the famous grin.

John Constantine has posed:
    Mead from Asgard it is then, aye? Chas serves the stuff up in a glass like he would anything else, he just does it from that little level shelf that runs along the bar proper but more out of sight. "Thanks for keeping the asshole alive, by the way," the best mate and cabbie in all the realms between Heaven and Hell says before he slides the drink over.

    "Aye, thanks for that," John echoes the sentiment before, "Can't believe it worked." That is to say that he can't believe he survived it with nothing more than a heart sized hole in his chest wall... that, while slowly healing and filling in where it likely shouldn't be, is still *there*, his heart bared for all to see were he not back to a white button down that isn't shredded and bloody.

    John raises his glass of scotch and glances at Terry over the rim of it, "Angela here, she helped me plant a seed inside the Demogorge." He waves a hand all 'vague and dismissive' and adds, "And a lot of other shite between then and the end of it, but it's over... death's back to rights save a few missing and mixed up pieces that'll be fixed soon enough and cause no real danger to the grand scheme of it."

    Chas serves up that soda and even makes it a little extra sweet with that nasty cherry grenadine crap that makes John's stomach turn. Hell, it even has an actual cherry floating in it.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
A look at Terry by the tall redhead and she tilts her head. She is somewhat sure she is being made fun of or mocked in some way but she isn't sure why. She then looks over at Chaz and then looks at John before nodding her head, "Oh, he is the asshole?" She gestures at John and then takes up the mead and eyes it carefully. She breathes it in, which for her is a much more important thing than for most. She then sips it and hmms as she swirls it about her mouth. She nods her head briefly.

"Hmm, this is impressive. This is well received, John." She nods to the man, "A fine payment. Not sure that I approve of doing business with Asgardians but they at least make a good alcohol."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Well, then that is lovely news- the world ending was simply something I couldn't accept. I still can't find my way back to Wonderland, so I would have had nowhere to stash my stuff."

He approaches the pair, shouldering his messenger back. "I'm not the asshole, or at least I may be /an/ asshole by mere virtue of being /a/ cat, but nothing egregious enough to merit being 'the' asshole. I'm Vorpal. Pleased to meetcha," he offers a hand to shake.

"I would have loved to partake in the attempt to save the world, but you had enough firepower and my own gifts are nowhere near the caliber of a sorcerer supreme or a mistress of magic."

He glances at John, "Everybody got back more or less in one piece, Right?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "Aye, far as I know, everything was reset back to the right moment," John replies after he's taken between a sip and a swig from his glass. "That's me, biggest arsehole from here all the way back across the pond." It's a title he wears with pride, it is... and as a suit of armor. "Thor's a good bloke, little thicker in the head than he is in the those pecs, but good bloke."

    Chas lingers in Terry's general vicinity a little longer than rightly normal, just waiting for a moment when John's distracted enough... for him to motion the Cheshire Cat a little closer to him and further from John. It comes when the Clash's 'London Calling' drops on the jukebox and has the Laughing Magician air drumming the bar and bobbing along, even singing along. "Hey," the cabbie begins in a murmur meant only for sensitive cat ears. "...do your Suriel given duty, mate. He broke it off with Meggan, figure out if the reasons are good enough or him just being a stupid wanker, pushin' away for stupid reasons that don't count because he's afraid for her."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
"Oh, no, I was referring to John as the asshole." She gestures to John. She then looks at Terry, "You are not someone I have saved or have reason to save." She sips her drink and then nods to him, "Either way, I am Angela." She then looks back to her drink and nods to it, "This is impressive. I actually think I feel something similar to the drinks of Heven." She glances then to Chaz and Terry. She tilts her head briefly. Clearly they are being secretive and so, it is not her business to let John know what they are saying. Besides, he isn't paying her for that.

"John, I would not refer to Thor as a good bloke. He is an Asgardian. Their motives are based in pride and the insanity of doing things for 'stories' that will be told or the like." She shakes her head, "They do not understand balance."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"You say that like it's a bad thing, Angela. I am, after all, a story come to life if you think about it. Although that is not completely accurate-- we existed long before that nosy little girl came down and ratted us all out to that stuffy Englishman... but that is neither here nor there." The Cheshire cat grins. His only acknowledgement of what Chas said is the flicker of an eye, briefly. "Granted, I've only really made the acquaintance of Lady Sif. She was very nice to me and gave me a couch to crash when I had a falling out with my team and needed to sleep somewhere that was /not/ the tower... you said you were in Heaven?"

The hand that was offered is quickly retracted. "Sorry. Nothing against you, but I tend to get... inebriated if I touch holy or order magic, and the last thing anyone needs is me getting drunk."

Casually, he sits down on one of the stools and says "Hey John- when's Megg coming over, you know? I've got something I want to give her."

John Constantine has posed:
    John's brought out of his air drumming by Angela's speaking to him and rolls his shoulders up a little. "I don't know, luv, he's saved my hide a time or two. He's a wee spot over the top sometimes, but I think his intentions are mostly in the right place." He's also really thick in the head and easy to prank, so there's that. "Loki on the other hand, he's a little smarmy." Pot, have you met kettle?

    "Anyway," he raises his glass in the air and says, "Point of the day, here's to all those that passed before us, may they find their peace again now, aye? Hey Chas, remember that time Lester thought he was buying the 'good stuff' and it turned out to be baking powder and salt? Bloody hell that shite hurt goin' up the nose, didnit. We were what? Nineteen? Eighteen?" ...and plain stupid it seems.

    "Have to ask her, aye mate? Not her babysitter," is all John has to say on that front.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
A slow blink as she stares at Terry and then she looks at John before looking back at the drink. She stares at it and sniffs it breifly before shaking her head and looking to Terry again. "I am not at all sure what you mean at all." She takes down the rest of her drink and then sets the glass on the bar, "I do not know of which story you speak or why you existing before a little girl makes any sense at all to it, but your culture here on Earth has been a strange one thus far so I'll just leave it to that."

"As to your affliction, no offense is taken. If you are somehow turned drunk by hevenly power, than so be it. I will nto subject you." She then looks to John and then slow blinks, "This Meggan is a child? Is she the child that this one existed before?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry looks at Angela for a few seconds. His experience with Sif and Kian have prepared him for this sort of thing. "Part of my soul is originally from a realm called Wonderland. Some time ago a little girl from here fell into the realm, came back and told all about it to some stodgy mathematician who turned the story into a book, and it became very popular, and everybody thinks /he/ came up with it all and that Wonderland is just a story. This is patently false..."

He signals Chas for a soda, "Megg is John's girlfriend. We bonded over our shared love for ABBA and glitter a few days ago and I was bringing something to give to her." He pats his messenger bag while acting oblivious to any mannerism John might be showing in his reply. Inwardly, though, he notes- /that/ kind of a breakup, then. He would probably ahve to catch John alone to discuss it, but in the meantime it didn't hurt to fish.

Suriel had been nice enough to give him that awesome pen to give to Caitlin, after all. He couldn't just abandon his duty.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Not a label I'd put on it," John offers up in regards to the 'John's girlfriend' of it all. He suddenly finds the bottom of his scotch glass an interesting thing that needs getting to the bottom. Bend of the elbow to find that bottom isn't quite so smooth as it usually is. His arm's kept tucked a little closer to his chest than normal.

    "I hated that book as a lad," he adds to that end of the discussion.

    Chas is quick to serve up another soda, all doctored like the last with a cherry floating on top and not even asking for payment in return. Man has a soft spot for the younguns, he does.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
Shepeaking of the young ones, down the stairs from the outside of the pub comes Phoebe, motorcycle helmet under her arm, carrying her backpack in the other, still with her road leathers. She seems a little bit breathless as she makes her way in.

    "Sorry I'm late Chas --" she begins, in all honesty, and she pauses a moment as she sees the man himself at his seat at the end of the bar, and she gives a slight smile to him, gives a nod, and goes to stash her leathers in the kitchen so she doesn't have to go far back.

    "--mom was being a bit difficult." she states to Chas in passing.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Listening to the story, Angela tilts her head at him before she shakes her head, "So, your realm was discovered by a little girl and now you're here." She looks to the side, "I can't say that it seems like an exciting story but I suppose every discovery must be made somehow." She then looks to John and Terry back and forth as they speak of Meggan. She is not sure that this is at all something she should be involved in. She's only ever had one love and she's not always been successful there.

"I do not know this book but thank you for sharing your story, Terry." She then looks at Phoebe, looking carefully at her as she speaks, only overhearing things a little but then she is often listening in on stories and such around the whole bar. Just in passing, listening for threats or trouble as she often does.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Pheebs!" Terry says, giving Phoebe a wave, "Good to see you! And it's ok, John- it's not my favorite, either. There is clearly too much of Alice and not nearly enough of me to make it a good book. I shall have to get you a copy, Angela- for all its faults, it's still the only thing this world has that is close enough to a tourist map of the realm."

He sips his soda and glances sideways at John. His ears twitch. He decides that the first course of action must be to look Megg up and see what this was all about from her point of view, since John was likely to be as communicative as roadkill right at this moment. Maybe if he were more likely to indulge- in vino veritas, after all- but right now, it wouldn't work.

"Right then, I should go look her up!" he says, taking care to sip his soda carefully, giving Chas a glance. He's on the case.

John Constantine has posed:
    "It's okay, kid," Chas assures Phoebe. "Don't even really need you tonight if you want to hang with the cat for a bit." Be a real kid or something near it for a change maybe?

    John rolls one shoulder, just the one, an indifferent seeming gesture that. "Aye, you should." But it's clear his mood isn't what it was when he offered Angela a hug. It's not 'dark' like John can get dark, no... he's still running too high from stopping the end of all things as we know it for that much dark. But it's not all smiles and unicorns anymore either.

    He pours another glass from his bottle, lights a Silk Cut and asks of Angela, "So, you never really did say what happened after you ... you know, ended up inside a Demogorge."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Dunno, last time Phoebe was trying to be a real girl, it ended up with her in the Underworld.

    Phoebe gives a slight smile as she comes out of the kitchen to Chas, and shrugs a moment with a "If you insist, but really if you need me-" she trails off to Chas, and comes out from behind the bar, giving a smile.

    "How you feeling, Terry?" she asks gently as she comes about -- and then John asks being inside the Demogorge --

    "Wait -- she went /inside/?" she questions in curiousity.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
"If you insist." She states to Terry and then nods to him, "I will see if I can find something to offer you in return." She then looks over at John and is really sure she's sensing something from him but she's not the queen of the social scene. Give her a bounty to hunt or an enemy to kill and she'll figure it out. This? Not so much. She just shakes her head as she then looks to John, about to speak when Phoeobe does and she nods to her.

"Well, John, I didn't bring it up because I dug my way through a giant beast's intestinal track and then dug a hole in its intestines, planted your insane plan there, and then I died." She shrugs and looks at him, "At least, I think I might have died. It's rather hard to tell given I was under the impression that doing so would not likely be something I'd do." She nods to him, "So, for all I know I simply passed out which is also something I don't often do."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I'm feeling fine, Pheebs! I have to dash, though... but you and I are catching up later. Milkshake tonight? I won't take no for an answer."

He definitely needed to hit Meggs first. The question is, how likely was /she/ to talk? Archangelic duty or not, he could only do so much. But maybe he could coordinate some info with Phoebe, as well as treat her to some yummy food as part of his ongoing gratitude towards his friend.

Having finished his soda, he smiles at Angela. "Angela, a pleasure. I'm sure we will cross paths again. And by then I should have a copy of the book... signed!"

Okay, so he didn't write it, but he /lived/ it, at least.

Sliding off the stool, he says "See ya later, John. I'll bring some Tiramisu later on. Mom's whipping up a new batch. She always gets bakey when she closes a case."

And with that, he turns around and leaves the fine establishment, mission in place.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I can't tonight, I have an early morning and have to head out to the mall for a while for... uh... recon?" she offers, sounding just a little dodgy, rubbing the back of her head a moment, but bids the cat farewell as he exits, and the young woman looks back to John and Angela, looking between the two of them before she asks:

    "... so it worked? He's back to sleep?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "Sounds a party," he offers Angela along with a wink. "It did, luv," John replies along with a little half a grin. He's still sulky after all the mention of Meggan and such, but he can't help but smile. Who could really? Seriously they saved the fucking world and they did it with... love and hope? It's a thing that sticks for a bit, that.

    "Recon for what?" Chas asks between serving up a whiskey and coke and a tap beer for patrons seated nearby at the bar. "Not another of those thinning things is it?" Chas does not like dodgy, no he does not.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
The womean looks over at Phoebe but again, she doesn't know the people here that well. Honestly, she doesn't know much of any one that well. Other than the bowling team. They are true warriors. She can understand them. They seek to fight for a prize. It makes sense. She just considers this Phoebe for someone who might do recon before she looks over at John and blinks.

"I twas not a party, John. It was terrible. I have seen your bar. I cannot imagine you wishing to party there."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "No, I agree with her, it doesn't sound like a party." Phoebe agrees with Angela, "Does sound heroic, though, and for that, I'm glad." she smiles, first to Angela, and then to John. When she smiles at John, it's a smile that reaches her eyes -- happiness and *relief* that it worked. She might have even done something useful for him.

    And then Chas asks about recon, and Phoebe stiffens a moment.

    "Ah, no, the other day I stopped there for lunch," not a lie "and this guy was handing out pamphlets for The Truth about the Elite. It listed that the Wayne family were lizard people wearing human skin and filling coffee with lizard eggs that will take over our brains."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Being eaten is always a party, until time to come out the other end," John replies before downing his scotch and setting the glass on the bar... empty. Not like him at all. His attention joins Chas's, locked on Phoebe, one eyebrow raised. Not buying any of it.

    "That so... Could be true," Chas offers... one eyebrow raised. Not buying any of it.

    Disbelieving Magic Dad times two, Phoebe... what do you do?

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
"You have weird ideas of parties, John." She then looks over at Phoebe and slowly blinks. She shifts slightly and then looks to John and Chas before looking back to Phoebe once more.

"Who are these Waynes and do you wish to hire me to stop them? I am an assassin. If they are as bad as you say, I would recommend dealing with them quickly."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "AH... no, no, the Waynes are kinda nobility in Gotham. They do tons of charity work. They seem like really nice if kinda weird people? They show up to charity events I've been to, so..." Phoebe trails off, and the idea of Angela going after the three 'Waynes' she knows... well. It almost makes her feel bad for Angela.

    And then the disbeleiving dad eyes. Times two. Phoebe winces visibly, and then comes clean:

    "I took a part time job at a coffee place so I could have some sort of papertrail. To make sure my emancipation paperwork shows that I'm working along with an address, and.... y'know. In case things didn't work out with lessons."

John Constantine has posed:
    "I can make you a paper trail, luv," John points out. Magicking up fake paperwork is easier than blowing his nose. He slips off his stool, however, and announces. "I'm still wrung out from it all. I need a bed to fall into." ...most likely one in Whitechapel, but he doesn't mention that bit.

    "You don't need to lie to us, kid. Keeping secrets isn't ... you just don't need to lie to us." Chas has gone from Disbelieving Dad to Disappointed Dad in a matter of two point two.

    A glance in Angela's direction and a little salute. "Couldn't have done it without you, luv... Chas'll keep those coming until you're out or the bottle is, whichever's first."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "There are several people in my life who could create a papertrail--" Phoebe begins, and then she lets her shoulders hang. "Goodnight, John -- get some sleep. You deserve it." she states to the magician, and then turns to Chas, and can't find the words to justify hiding the truth.

    "... I'm trying. Been living so many double lives it's getting hard to keep track." Phoebe admits, and she just shakes her head "I'll just... see you later, Chas." she states, and goes to retrieve her stuff from the kitchen and make her way upstairs.

    Disappointed John hurt. Disappointed Chas? That's a knife to her heart.