7833/Birthright: Examining Past Footsteps

Birthright: Examining Past Footsteps
Date of Scene:	14 September 2021
Location:	Liverpool, England
Synopsis:	Inspecting a possible link to the past with John Constantine, old friends reunite. Asenath attempts to dissuade anyone from standing between her and Phoebe.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, John Constantine

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    This particular place used to host some pretty crusty shows. The Clash has played here, along with so many smaller outfits. Once upon a time maybe even John did more than puke in the bathroom and pick up dates here. Back in 2003, this place had been a bit of a hole. It had a bar that you practically had to fall into, and a bunch of cheap rooms upstairs that you could rent in six-hour chunks instead of for the whole day, if you let them know at check-in.

    It was all dark wood and smoke and smelled a bit like an old bloke's basement and armpits back then. Now a days?

    ... it's a boutique hotel. Revitalized. Gentrified. The bar was a 'club' at night for patrons of the hotel and others, and during the day was a nice place to pop in for tea. It was even painted in friendly pastel colors.

    The Hotel? Updated. Beige and white with soft pinks and gold through-out.

    It looked ... generic.

    The Hotel was called Hotel Peak now, but before it was just called The Grunge.

John Constantine has posed:
    Now that death is mostly sorted, John decided it was time to focus on other things. This was much much much to Chas's dismay and sometimes Chas does when a battle or two in the war. 'Don't go alone, you're still recovering' was the crux of the argument that last a good half an hour of back and forth and ended with John making that 'Mocking of the Nagging Mom' face behind his best mate's back and a, "Fine."

    He snagged Phoebe for the trip to London, once in London, he snagged Paulie and Annie. It was time to take a peak into the past now that it was known to him that he actually knew Phoebe's bitch cousin.

    "Isn't this place right chipper," he asides to the lot of them when they finally arrive at the hotel that *used* to be one of his favorite hangouts. Even did a stint or two on the stage back then, could even be Annie and Paulie know the place well... and maybe even that one storage closet in the back where a person could sneak off for a qui...

    Memories, oh how they barge in uninvited. "Annie, stay out here with the, lass, aye?" Because well, it's better to not have her glaring holes through him the entire time, innit? "Paulie, come with?" Because he *is* still dealing with the repercussions of his trip to Mexico and after the last time he messed with Dog Bitch and she nearly showed up *in the room*? John honestly doesn't have a death wish, despite the way it seems from time to time.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe had heard about Annie by name, but seemed a little more tense when it was revealed that she was, in fact, a nun. PHoebe hadn't been at the big party -- she had elected to try and get some happiness elsewhere. And as Phoebe looks around, the youngest in the group, she bites on the inside of her cheek and she goes.

    "... gentrification is pretty much a sickness. This place probably looked badass back in the day."

    "More like 'wrecked'." Annie had stated, and then she had turned to John as she raises an eyebrow to the man, and opens her mouth a moment to say 'I am not a babysitter!', when she turns to the girl. "Right, looks like we've got guard duty, tell you what, girl -- you tell me about why you're still glowing, and I'll see if I can't give John a few pointers on how to handle a lady properly." she states. Obviously, little dig at John on that one.

    Paulie just gives a small smile, and he steps up with John.

    "Are you sure you want to leave Phoebe alone with Annie?" he asks, picking up John's bag for him.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Hard to mishandle an improper lady, aye?" John quips in return dig. It's not as if Annie was 'proper' a'tall back then. *How* much older is she? "I was barely out of nappies, Annie," he adds a little more quietly and without so much 'bite'. Just a kid, lots of mistakes back then. He regrets a few of them, likely even the ones he made with the good Sister.

    He shoots a side eye glance at Paulie and grouses, "I'm not an invalid. I can carry my own shite." But his tone is fond beneath the grouse. ...and he doesn't argue further, he knows better. Once they're a distance away, he adds, "Maybe she'll convince the lass to not have quite so much faith in the faithless, aye?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "If she didn't have faith in you, you wouldn't have had the ring to give back to her." Paulie points out. He looks back to Phoebe, who seems a little flustered, and Annie is smiling, and Paulie shakes his head as he continues to carry on the vug leather bag.

    Inside, the slender young brunette behind the counter gives a wan smile, looking at the trenchcoated John and the taller, buffer Paulie.

    "Afternoon gentlemen -- have you a reservation?" she questions cheerily, setting her hands down behind the counter and just... barely... next to the panic button.

John Constantine has posed:
    "No, we don't, luv. But it'd be much appreciated if we could see room 203? Bit of a police matter, woman claiming a sexual assault happened in that room last night." John's lie comes as easily as breathing as does his hand slipping into an inner pocket of that trench coat and pulling out an illusioned up ID that pegs him as one of Liverpool's finest; Inspector Benjamin Dover.

    "This here's a colleague from White Chapel way, s'where the woman lives," he offers with a nod in Paulie's direction. The bit about Annie's faith was skipped over entirely and on purpose. The on purpose would be a known to Paulie. John doesn't like all that sentimental bullshit talk.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Paulie pulls his far more official and actual real badge. "Acting as advisory." he heads off a question, and the brunette gives a slightly relieved smile -- she's not getting robbed! -- and she charges a card.

    "I can confirm that there wasn't anyone in the room last night, but I would be happy to forward your inquiry after your investigation is complete to our legal team." she states cheerily, handing John the card.

    And Paulie understands. John is not the sentimental sort. Tends to get in the way.

    "Thank you, miss." he states, and turns to walk towards the elevator.

    "...really, mate. Ben Dover? What are you, twelve?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "Dunno, spendin' so much time around you lately, s'like it's my real name, aye?" John offers along with that lopsided, cocky grin and an a wink. While waiting for the elevator he does that little stretch of his neck from one side to the other, a little shake after... that 'gearing up for it' thing that Paulie probably knows well.

    "Last time I tried to peek in on this bitch, she near showed up in Chas's living room. This is just a peek into the past rather than a hunt for her current location, but you never know, so be ready, Paulie." When the lift dings, he steps inside it and doesn't turn around until the doors close again; just another moment spent, staring at that back wall, a little mental 'psych-up' moment.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I beleive if it's 'Inspector Ben Dover', that's a command to me." Paulie replies with a smile. "But let's leave that paticular cuffs in the room, aye? Business to do." he states quietly, and Paulie steps in behind John, a reassuring presence.

    The elevator dings. Second floor.

    Eighteen years ago, john might have stumbled through the dark wooden halls with ancient red carpeting, supported by Yazmin mostly as Mya lead the way. Now? It's the same beige and light pink, with pretty yellow sconses and horrible fucking generic artwork. Room 203 was down the hall a bit, and once Paulie slides the card, the electronic lock chimes merrily and leads them into a well-appointed little room. The bed was on the other side of the room from where John had woken up the next morning to Mya shaking him, letting him know it was time for him to get the hell home. The bathroom had been completely redone, instead of an ancient, cramped tub it had a real shower -- and a real toilet!

    OUTSIDE:

    "So wait, that wasn't just him talking crap," Phoebe's American accent stands out like a sore thumb, "He really *was* in a band? And Chas was a roadie?"

    "Aye, and back then I was somethin' of a groupie-manager. They weren't too much older than y'self, just being out there an' making a bit of noise and a bit of trouble. John especially. Chas never was far behind, though."

John Constantine has posed:
    "This place has gone to absolute shite." Perspective skewed much? Once inside the room he nods toward the bed for Paulie to put the bag down on it. As per the norm, that bag really does weigh a *lot*. It also clanks and clatters if set down too roughly.

    "It's been a lot of years, Paulie. This won't be all that easy." It's not like calling up something that happened a month or two ago. "Maybe if my memories of it were clearer. But fuck, I was like *sixteen* and I don't even remember what I was on." He paces the room a bit, from one corner to the other and around. "Just... don't touch me once it starts no matter what it looks like, aye?"

    From the bag, he snags an assortment of things that includes several candles, some thick white chalk that'll work well enough on the carpet and be easier for the hotel staff to clean after he's finished, a dagger, a bowl, and some ground African Dream Root. That last likely means a wild ride and Paulie'd know it from past experiences. Next comes a simple glass from the bathroom filled with water.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "-- John, that's not --" Paulie begins, looking at the dream root as John pulls it out of the bag. His eyes narrow and he takes a dissatisfied breath as he looks up.

    "If you start getting bad, I'll break it and bring the girl up. Should be able to clear out whatever's in your blood minus the... unclean parts." he states, crossing his arms a moment, expressing worry as he looks to John, and he pauses to put a hand on John's shoulder.

    "Be careful, aye? Already nearly lost you twice in the last month. Don't care to make three time's the luck."

John Constantine has posed:
    "When have you ever known me to not be careful, Paulie?" John asks with another flash of that damnedable devil's grin. Candles are placed in each corner of the room and lit. The chalk isn't used for a circle, instead he draws an impossible connection of sigils and squiggles and swirls around the entire room, going from candle to candle. Then he plants himself on the floor, cross-legged and all 'ready to meditate'.

    He looks up at Paulie and takes a deep breath. John's a little nervous, something he wouldn't even come close to showing in front of anyone but Paul.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... nearly every day of your life, John." Paul deadpans, and he helps light candles, and sits on the bed -- less sits, more perches, ever ready to catch John should he fall.

    "I'm here." he states softly to John.

    Outside and downstairs, Phoebe's relaxed enough with Annie that she's shown the circle on her wrist, explaining in brief about how John met her and was helping her. They have tea, and Phoebe is trying an actual crumpet. She seems thrilled at this most touristy of ridiculous things.

John Constantine has posed:
    His own blood, drawn by the dagger against his palm, goes into the gold bowl. It's a bit of him that they're chasing now, his memories of that night. Next he warms the glass with heat from his own hand and mixes the powdered dream root into the water.

    Once it's all mixed and dissolved, John clucks his tongue, rolls his shoulders, does that little shake thing again and down the hatch it goes. He's not overly fond of the stuff either, it tastes like crap and leaves behind a Hell of a hangover that's different in so many ways than a traditional one. It's like a night spent jumping from psychedelic to psychedelic and then topping it off with a bag of the worst stank weed out there, guaranteed to bring on a case of the paranoia.

    But damn is it good for opening the sinuses... and the senses.

    The spell he weaves with murmured words in Arabic turns the candle smoke blue. By the time he's so far 'gone' as to not be able to murmur, the whole thing's woven and, in his mind's eye, he's letting himself drift back... back... back...

    Through so much time, through so many memories, some good, some not so. He's pale and shaking within a few minutes, whimpering a time or two, three even... maybe four through it. At one point is lips turn blue and frosty breaths blow from them.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Back through the years, before New York, before Newcastle, before Mucous Membrane, there were just a pair of lads having a grand time at The Grunge. No one was checking ID's, the place was packed well past capacity and part of the wall had been removed to allow people to spill out into the street and still watch Busted play on the Liverpuddlian stage. It was loud. There was a Moshpit and Chas was somewhere in it wearing a denim vest and spiked wristbands. At the bar there were a pair of ladies, one with fashionable short red hair, the other with dreads and curls, the one in red trying to enjoy her tea as some bastard screams in her ear about how people like her don't belong in Punk. She has tattoos all up and down her left arm, including the god of healing Khunus, kissing at the base of her thumb.

    Yasmin turns to her cousin and states something in a softer voice, and the two girls have a bit of a laugh.

    One of the guys, tall and shaved bald, one eyebrow replaced with 6MWE88 tattooed on his face reaches to grab her arm.

    "'avin' a bit of a giggle are ya? Well, we don't tolerate people like you in OUR spaces! Unless maybe you wanna --" his other arm reaches out "-- pay admission --"

    Mya gives a low growl, her face getting sour as she stands, reaching one hand out.

John Constantine has posed:
    The blood in the bowl, and that still dripping small droplets onto the carpet from John's clenched fist, bubbles and starts to turn black. His face shows the strain of it all, holding onto something from so far back, attempting to manipulate it to do his bidding, so he can see things, hear things he didn't when the night was real.

    His breathing is a little ragged, he's still pale and shaking, but nothing so much to upset Paulie enough for him to run get the girls. The angel is, however privy to the same scene John's seeing in his mind in the form of an overlay of blue through the room.

    John fast forwards the past, still paying close attention should he need to stop on something.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Fast forward. John arrives, skinny little shit, and starts a fight by just bloody launching himself at the guy trying to grab at Yasmin's chest. Mya had been about to cast, but leans back and out of the way. John takes a sock to the face, splitting his lip and dislocating his jaw, and just rolls his shoulder, cracks his neck and goes right back into it.

    It's all in fast forward. Some of this he remembers. Chas had come out of the pit and brought a couple other lads with him, and a fight started between punks and skinheads, the latter getting thrown out of the bar (and the one that socked John thrown off a dock and into the cruddy water.

    Yasmin smelled sweet and smokey, and Mya smelled like sweet floral notes. Chas hadn't come back yet, John commented on the chartuche on Yasmin's thumb, and they offered to take him upstairs to help him recover from the fight.

    Into the room they come, John supported mostly by Yasmin as Mya handled the doors. There's a little laughter. A little sweet wine between Mya and John -- Yasmin did not imbibe -- and then Yasmin healed John's face. The pain was gone, but the spellwork also set him so drunk and drowsy... he had almost knacked out right against the older lady's chest.

    "... you know, he shouldn't even be here. Rami will be back in the morning to pick us up." Mya says. She's not speaking Arabic, as would be suggested by her shirt as she peels out of her vest and stretches. "We should have a little fun with him before he goes."

    "Leksa --" Yasmin replies, and her nose wrinkles in the same exact way Phoebe's does when she disapproves of something. "He's a boy. Let him be."

John Constantine has posed:
    He was just a boy, a fuckin' *kid*. Not even old enough to be in the bar downstairs, but when did that ever stop him? Of course it all offers Paulie a perspective into the deeper past of the man with the beautiful broken heart. No fifteen or so year old child should be in that environment, but there John is. Cute as a damned button with all his bravado and attitude and trying to be so 'grownup', but also so fucking *sad* that he had to try to be so grownup.

    John watches it all play out with indifference, he doesn't have time to feel anything over the moment that he was part of and remembers so very little of. He can't hold onto that thread forever, it's too stretched thin. If he tugs too hard it'll snap, if he holds too loose it'll float away in the middle and be too difficult to follow, like a single thread of spider's silk drifting on the wind. He's not aware that he's starting to make little sounds that hint at the pain he's feeling in his head from the effort to keep that delicate balance and pay attention to what needs it paid.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    John is slightly awake, but the girls aren't speaking English. They'd switched over to Middle Egyptian, and Mya -- Leksa -- gives a huff.

    "But you could feel it, couldn't you? I can practically *taste* it when his blood flowed! He has such potential! Just think what we could do with--"

    "Leksa! I said *no*. Your mother trusted me with your education while you were here. And besides --" she switches to English again, "that's creepy. Ew."

    The leaner woman rolls her eyes, and hops on the bed, and pokes at John's leg. "It wouldn't hurt him. If he was awa--" she pauses, and then just looks up to Yasmin's disapproving face.

    "Any means to the end that serves the Reeds, auntie! Think of what potential he could give us with his metaphorical blood! You can't say you don't think of your other mission, to bring back new lines to our village." she points out, drawing one leg up and setting her chin. "Could always just take him from this hole and bring him with us. He'd learn in the village. And THEN --"

    "So now we have gone from stealing his innocence to kidnapping and hostaging?" Yasmin asks in incredulousness. She folds an arm protectively around John's sleeping form, and then shifts around so that he's laying against her lap. She raises her left hand, and holds it out.

    "Leksa, not another word. He was courageous enough that he stopped you from having to use any sort of spell. Be thankful that we need not worry about being called back so soon."

    Mya scowls. "Why should I be thankful? You fall your way into Oxford and investigate the supernatural here and absorb and take like the desert does water. I fight for my rights to leave the village and get saddled with *you* as my keeper!"

John Constantine has posed:
    Stealing his innocence? That was probably Annie's job.

    In the real world, John's nose begins to bleed, just a trickle, then full on gusher; not 'dangerous', but not pretty either. He's paler than he was when it started, shaking more. Time travel, even this way, isn't his thing. That's more Strange's court.

    His eyes roll back to reveal whites, his head drops back and that little black crow on his hip shifts to taking flight; if only Paulie could actually see the tattoo spelled to indicate that John has 'left the building'.

    If only Paulie *knew* what the idiot was attempting.

    Back, back, back through the past, following that delicate threat, John's astral self appears in the room... the back then room, but it only appears to Yasmin. The rest of it, Mya and the little babe of a John see nothing because he's not in 'their space', he's outside it... outside the moment in time save for everyone but Yasmin. It's a thing she won't remember when he's gone.

    Or that's the way it will be should he decide to reveal himself. For now, that isn't the path he takes. He just stands there, watching from the other side of the veil, getting a slightly closer view of the whole mess.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Mya desides to leave the room, but not before she reaches for John's leg again, and finds that she *can't* touch him.

    There is an angry look echanged between aunt and niece, and the latter shakes her head. "You waste your time. You should let me look into his fate and see where the stone was cast. We could *change his life*, Paisi. He could be ours and worship us. It would just take a little blood."

    "And I forbade it, and have blocked you from laying a hand on him until sunrise. Now you may either sleep or not, but no more arguing tonight." she states sternly, and Leksa decides to fuck off elsewhere, grabbing her vest and going to look for trouble.

    After a moment, Yasmin is alone with John. She strokes his blonde hair a moment, and breathes out.

    "... your path is different than ours for now, but soon, you'll find your own." she states to the sleeping teenager.

John Constantine has posed:
    John steps from the veil. "Seems I've done that, luv," he announces once he's there... sorta. His form is that of a shade to Yasmin, hazy and semi-transparent, but so much an older version of the boy sleeping there on the bed. "...and I believe your daughter has crossed it." Nothing like cutting straight to the heart of it, right?

    "I need to know the truth of it, of her, of you... of Mya, if I'm to keep her safe." More of the truth of it, because he really hasn't all that much time.

    Back in the real world, he's still, barely breathing, barely a pulse and the blood from his nose has slowed because of it... not much happening to pump it there. Maybe it'll be misconstrued as 'danger Will Robinson' by Paulie... or maybe he'll figure it out. John can still be 'sensed' by the fallen Angel, but he feels *far* away.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Yasmin turns in alarm, right hand drawn protectively over the boy sleeping against her lap, and her left arm rising up. Concentric circles form in her left palm, as bright and shining as she is, and John would see that same aura surrounding her -- and she blinks.

    "Generally when shades sneak behind me they do not last long enough to speak." Yasmin states in English.

    The area around them goes a little fuzzy, a little darker. She looks up in alarm.

    "-- what is happening...?" she asks.

    Outside, Phoebe feels... suddenly cold. Like ice is pumping through her veins. Annie can feel it too, and she reaches across the table, and draws up her rosary beads.

    "Is... the veil thinning? Sister Anne-Marie, why is it so cold?" Phoebe asks. Her breath is visible. No one else's is.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I was a right punk, wasn't I?" John asks as his gaze shifts to his sleeping self there.

    But then shit gets weird. "Feels like something's comin'," he murmurs quietly. But he doesn't flee back to his body, not yet, that would be the 'careful' thing to do. "If you can put up protections around yourself and... little shite me," that was a little odd to say out loud, "... do it."

    Downstairs, Annie is thinking along the same lines as her former student/short term lover... She drops a protection spell around herself and Phoebe, pulling the girl in close. It's meant to reinforce the 'wall' between the pair of them and the 'otherworld' and render both pretty much invisible to it.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    In the room, Paulie raises his own wards, looking as the sconce in the room flickers.

    Phoebe's eyes go wide as she's pulled in close to the nun (there are definitely conflicting feelings about that!), but she summons a little bit of light to her palm. The circle at her left hand glows as she readies her own shield -- just in case.

    And within that moment of time, sliced neatly out, the woman who had introduced herself as Yasmin does so, holding the bo y close as a circle lights up around them. She was *strong*.

    John might even feel a little safer.

    "I can feel it. Cold." her eyes narrow, and she turns to JOhn.

    "What happens to my village? Is my family safe? My daughter?" she asks -- and the hand that is not holding Wee John goes briefly to her stomach.

    No wonder Phoebe's past led here - tied to her mother.

John Constantine has posed:
    John doesn't have time to get into the village. He really doesn't have much time left at all. Not much time left to hold it all together, the thread he followed, the astral travel back this far which is probably breaking about two million rules of magic just in the thought of it. "She's safe, for now. But someone is hunting her and that someone is..." He glances toward the door Mya left through. "...well, she's close to you now. She's using necromancy and twisting human souls into animals to twist them even more. How do I stop her?" Way to go John, talk about the blunt route? It matters not, it'll change nothing, Yasmin won't remember save maybe an odd dream likely brought about by the fight she had with the younger woman.

    In time, he'd figure out the stopping all on his own, but a little inside insight never hurt an effort.

    Back in the real world, John slumps over sideways, the bowl topples over when his hand hits it, blood still clinging to the bottom, black and fizzling.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The woman tries to speak, but she finds something dark on her lips. She reaches her fingers up, and touches it -- it's black. Not Blood. Something darker.

    "... she bound me." she states in gentle horror, then draws her gaze back up.

    "You can stop her. There are resources. The village. The lake. The Earthquake. The Water. The Light. She's after the Light. That's got to be it. If she has killed me, she can kill her. Seek the village. The lake. The Water. The Light. If she's killed me I cannot pass through, and neither will my daughter. We are caught in the veil like moths in a spider's web." she states, trying to work around the bindings. Blackness begins to trail from her eyes.

    Paul cries out, reaching for John momentarily, not touching him, no, but grabbing the duvet off the bed and using it to pull him back up gently.

    "John. /John/. There is something *wrong*."

    Outside, traffic has picked up a little, as if suddenly everyone wants to get some place quicker.

    A large boxtruck comes quickly down the street, and then begins to pick up speed.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I'll fix it," John replies simply. It's what he does, right? He fixes it? When he steps back through, the urgency of Paul's voice, even as distant as it is, snaps him back to his body as if he's on the end of a rubberband pulled just about tight enough to break.

    It's dizzying, painful and more than a little terrifying to get jerked back like that. It's also coupled with the lingering effects of the dream root. John's eyes snap open and he sucks in a gasp of a breath before letting out a startled sound that's *almost* but not quite a scream. Those faded denim blues are back to rights, no longer showing whites and wide and unfocused.

    Downstairs, Annie holds Phoebe closer, tighter, her spells are in the form of quiet prayers murmured from faithful lips. There's strength in that much faith and she's channeling all of it into keeping Phoebe safe.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Good Father above us Johnny what did you *see*?" Paulie asks as he holds John in the duvet to keep his body temperature even, reaching for his own hankercheif (because the man is old fashioned) to start swabbing at John's nose.

    There is Faith in those lips keeping Phoebe safe, but Phoebe has had a long-standing and very personal, selfish argument with the idea of the divine taking any sort of vested interest in her life, and though she has a lot of faith in the people wanting to protect her, when the box truck suddenly swerves, heading right for the bistro table that Annie and Phoebe are sitting at, Phoebe moves. Her arm goes around Annie's back, and bodily lifting the nun she tucks, rolls, and manages to use the non-magical skills she has to narrowly avoid becomming a pancake.

    She's using her own body to shield Annie, the light shield with the sigils showing, which has saved her arm from getting mangled in the bistro set.

    "... ohmigod. Are you okay?!"

John Constantine has posed:
    John's going to be fine. But the fact doesn't make the moments like these, the right after moments, any easier for him. But Paulie does. Normally John's alone in these moments or with someone that hasn't a clue what to do and certainly wouldn't be trying to 'take care' of John - other than Nettie, but she's on the outside of it most times for very good reason.

    He's shivering and shaking like a leaf to the point of teeth chattering, but it's as much just after effects of it all combined as it is from him actually being cold. Where it might take him longer to pull it together enough to speak, Paul's presence and the sound of his voice gets John there a little faster, at least enough to say, "Enough to know where I need to go next." He raises one hand to press his thumb and index finger lightly into the corners of his, now closed, eyes. "Bloody *hell* what a fuckin' headache."

    "I'm fine, I'm fine," Annie insists and, she is or will be as well, just a little rattled. "Are *you* okay?" she asks before glancing up and in the direction of where she thinks John and Paulie might be. "Fucking, *John*". Ooooooh she SWORE. But the swear has an undercurrent to it, one of concern and 'c'mon guys, come down so I know you're okay'.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Okay. Cool. Ah... sorry for kinda throwing you around like that, Sister." Phoebe stammers, realizing she's hovering over a prone nun. "I think once my brain catches up to the adreniline, I'll be fine. I think." Phoebe lets the shield fo out, and gingerly pulls her arm. She's bleeding, a bit, and it looks uncomfortable. People have begun to gather around. The man driving falls out of the truck and begins to cry out "Did you see her? Did you see the woman in the red jacket in the road?! Oh god, I think I hit her!" he cries out, sinking to his knees, looking horribly shaken.

    Phoebe draws herself up to a stand, and offers her good hand down to help Annie up.

    "... I don't have to say any 'Hail Mary's, right?" she offers as a meek joke to Annie.

    Paulie, meanwhile, keeps the cover wrapped around John, his arm against him, cradling the weight against him.

    "Good--" he trails a moment, and looks to the window.

    "... it sounds like there was an accident outside. I don't feel any other disturbances though."

John Constantine has posed:
    "We should check on the girls," John suggests as he starts dragging himself to his feet. He wobbles, but he doesn't fall. "... what I wouldn't give for a line about now, or maybe some oxy," he mumbles without thinking. "Fuck, my *head*." Then he's dragging himself to gathering up all the supplies they brought in with them.

    "No, no... nothing like that." The mention of a woman in red doesn't raise alarms with Annie, she's no reason to know it should. But... "We should check on the boys," is suggested almost at the same time John made the same suggestion in reverse. "This has John pushin' things too far written all over it, dunnit?" Spoken as if she knows that... Phoebe *knows* what living with John's pushing and shoving can be like and what it can mean for the health and well being of, well John, as well as those around him.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The Woman in Red.

    Phoebe feels her heart skip a beat, and at the same time John and Annie say they should check on one another, Phoebe goes: "I have to find John."

    Paul reaches out to keep John steady.

    "Yeah. Let's... not give you drugs for a little while, at least while your heart's in such a way, right?" Paulie states. and grabs one of the hotel washclothes in passing to press to John's face.

    "You look like hell." Paulie states, and he grabs John's materials to place back in the bag in a rush.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Aye, well, I feel about three levels below that," John admits in a way he wouldn't with most people. "Fuckin' Dream Root." ...and pushing the laws of what should and shouldn't be done just a bit.

    "Go on ahead, Paulie, make sure they're okay. Take the stairs." Because he's not doing that, not now. He'll be waiting on the lift. "Go, I'm okay, be right behind."

    "C'mon on then, let's go find him," Annie replies before taking Phoebe by the hand and pulling her through the little lobby. "I'm sure they're fine. He always ends up on the fine end of things, dunnit he? Even if it takes him a little while to get there. ...and Paul's with him." Is she trying to convince Phoebe or herself that John's obviously fine somewhere?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... Annie, the Lady in Red-" Phoebe begins, and then her hand is grabbed. She's quietly mute, her heart rate rising up as she tries to squish down a panic attack. She counts the things she could feel -- Annie's hand was warm. The fingers strong. The breeze and then warmth of the sun-warmed lobby on her skin. The smell od roses and black pepper creeping through the lobby. They go to the lift; the lift opens, and Phoebe steps in, holding the door. The lady at the counter is not there.

    "... that's who's after me." Phoebe states quietly. It's too much of a coincidence. Phoebe would have survived the truck -- it would have sucked. Annie?

    "Don't be ridiculous. Annie's minding your girl. They're fine. They're probably either helping anyone who's injured or Annie's got the girl half-way into a habbit by now." Paul chides gently, holding onto John's shoulder.

John Constantine has posed:
    Lifts, when one is trying to catch a quick shag in one on the way down from like the billionth floor, they get there in seconds. When one is in a hurry to get from floor one to floor two, seems they take an eternity.

    It's probably a good thing Paulie stayed, John may be leaning on him a little by the time they get to the elevator to wait for it to take an eternity to get to them. "I think I'm gonna puke..." ... ... ... "No, false alarm."

    Annie steps into the elevator right after Phoebe and mentions, "You know, his fault or not, people do get hurt around him." One last ditch effort to 'warn' the girl. Her heart's only half in it though. It's not like Annie wants John to be all alone in the world any more than anyone else does.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe lets the door close behind Annie, and she looks over to her.

    "... my mom has third degree burns and skin grafts. My dad was killed. Someone just tried to kill you with a truck." Phoebe looks up quietly, and she reaches to scratch irritably at her left wrist. "And pretty sure the Lady in Red is going to do everything in her power to kill John to get at me." she purses her lips. "Maybe we'll balance out." she adds, attempting a little humour. Probably won't do anything.

    "Oh good. I'm glad it's a false alarm. I'm kinda fond of these shoes." Paul gives an even reply to John. "Why in blazes is this lift taking so long? I could have carried you down."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Why is someone after you?" Annie asks, her voice subdued and concerned. "John'll fix it though, he will. He'll fix it even if you *aren't* all tangled in his life otherwise."


    Nope, not a false alarm. Almost as if cued by the dinging of the elevator's arrival, John loses his lunch, that is to say the water and dream root he had back there in the hotel room. It's all he's had since early this morning's breakfast and the scotch of the day. Rank smelling stuff that is. Good reflexes will be necessary to not get hit by the spray when the doors open.

    ...and Annie has them, sort of. Her shoes take a hit, but at least she's not wearing the stuff from tip to toe. "*John*," stated with a mixture of annoyance, disgust (because puke gross), concern and maybe a little pity.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "That's what Johns trying to find out." Phoebe replies, and she then holds her hand up, and shows the glowing circle against her palm. "I've been instinctively using magic since I was thirte-"

    Phoebe also has the good reflexes, and she jumps back before her sneakers get hit, eyes going wide, but her nose wrinkles.

    That's when Paul sees the resemblence.

    "/Oh." he has sudden understanding, looking to the girl in the elevator.

    And his shoes take a hit.

    John gets a :| face in resignation.

    "All right. Well.In you get, John." he states, hoisting the heavy bag.

    "Annie, hit floor five, please."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Sorry," John mumbles as he wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his trench. People should know by now. The should just *know*. If it's a rough spell, or drinking something gross or both and he feels the need to vomit, man's gonna do it! Look, his color's already returning some now that he's got it done and over. "Five, why five? That's not down... I thought we were going down?"

    "Oh John," Annie breathes out along with a sigh that's the same mix as the first time she said his name. She pulls a mint and one of those little half sized bottles of water from her bag and hands them to *Paul* if only because she doesn't trust John to take the wrapper off the mint or open the bottle of water on his own without making more of a mess. "Three floors up in a puke elevator. Feels like the place is back to rights, dunnit?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "It's OK to puke." Phoebe whispers to herself as she moves into a corner to make more room for poor John and for Paul.

    "... this is admittedly not how I pictured today going." Paul replies, removing the wrapper from the mint and bringing up John's hand, he puts the mint in it. And then he cracks the water open, and holds it out to John with one hand before he places his hand on the door, and hums. Complicated spell in his own tongue, but once they reach floor five, and it dings, the door opens to the little flat in Whitechapel. Which, thankfully, smells more like sandalwood and not like puke.

    "Anyone not interested in going to the lobby, this is your stop."

John Constantine has posed:
    Mint, check, water, check, he manages with the coaching and such. Ngggggg... It's really a sound and John makes it quite well. .... home... John steps off the elevator, into that living room and falls face first, quite dramatically, onto the sofa before he pulls the little fuzzy blanket with sunshine faces all over it off the back of it and over his damned head.

    "Neat trick," Annie murmurs before she steps off as well. "I'll get some tea going. Maybe some toast to settle *someone's* stomach before we all have a sit down and a chat?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Paulie heaves a breath out.

    "Takes a /lot/ out of me to do that, admittedly, but this warrants it. Go ahead and take those shoes off and leave them on the mat, Annie. I'll take care of them in a bit." Paul takes off his own shoes, and sticks them under the towel. He watches John just slump to the bed, and he looks up to the ceiling, and then walks over. He leans over, and just very gently states: "You might want to let her help before she frets herself to pieces." to the man, and then straightens up. "I'll give you a hand. I'm decently sure there's something in there for lunch. Who doesn't love cucumber sandwiches." he states.

    Phoebe, meanwhile, shyly steps in -- and takes off her shoes, it's polite -- and just goes to awkwardly sit on the floor near John.

    "... I think she tried to kill Annie.

John Constantine has posed:
    "It's just the dream root," John murmurs in reply to Paul. "It'll pass." It seems he might just fall sound asleep with that fuzzy blanket over his face until Phoebe...

    He sits up as fast as he fell over, "She *what*?!" he snarls. He's on his feet a second later and heading toward the door. Discombobulated enough, it seems, to have forgotten he only needs murmur a word or two and he'd be at home in a blink to gather everything he needed for a hunting trip.

    "JOHN!" Barked. "Sit back down!" But Annie? She's out of the circle a little more nowadays, off to the side, a few steps behind... her commands don't hold as much sway as they once would.

    "This bitch is going *down*," he shoots back in that same snarled voice. Right now, today, immediately, yesterday, it's time to finish it... even without the barest hints of a plan or information needed.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe stands up, and without meaning to, really, she reaches for John's arm to grasp against him.

    Paul errupts from the kitchen behind Annie, and he's grasping John's middle, and bodily lifting him off the floor.

    "No. You are not going anywhere. You cant even keep your head on straight. You'll get your fool self killed and then where will we be?"

    His voice is like iron, cool and hard. And Phoebe backs away a little, her eyes going wide. She hadn't expected that reaction from him, and she immediately looks extremely confused.

    Paulie holds tight though. "Sit your ass down. And you are going to have a nice chat with the girl. And you are going to compare notes. And you are going to eat some toast and drink more water until I know you're not about to keel over the minute your damn head catches up with the rest of you. Now. Sit. Down. John. Or I'll make you."

John Constantine has posed:
    It's a reflex, it truly is. It's not the first time it's happened and it won't be the last. When he's snatched around the middle and lifted, in the mood he's in? As wired and amped up as he is? BAM! If Paul isn't quick, he's getting the back of John's head to his face.

    "She tried to *kill*, ANNIE!" John shoots back. He's not struggling much though, not after that initial head butt attempt to the face.

    It's all good, nothing to see here!

    "...and she's out there *loose* to go after *anyone* else she chooses, CHAS IS HOME ALONE!"

    Annie just moves to Phoebe's side and gently guides her out of the way of whatever that is with a reassuring, "Just let the boys sort it." As if this is another day ending in Y between them. How many times did they do this in the past when John was on a tear?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    There's a CRUNCH. ANd the coppery smell of blood. The grip around John is tighter for it.

    "And she's trying to kill you. And she's after the girl. Chas is at home, it's the safest place in the world he can be because you made it that way. Your girl has a ward on her that stops her from being seen. You dove into the past and spoke with a bound ghost, it alerted her. Annie made sure your ward was safe, and the girls are fine. Chas will be fine. We can call him up and talk to him if you want. Annie just happened to be the one between her and the girl at the time. So. Take a breath, love. Take a breath and for God's sake and ours calm down. We can puzzle something out together, but if shes strong enough to bind and out-of-timed spirit and appareate to make someone send a truck into our clever girls, who are just fine thanks to the good heads on their shoulders, you're going to need more than a mint and half a pint of water in you."

    Phoebe meanwhile allows herself to be steered into the kitchen, looking a little shellshocked as she looks to Annie, and gives a defeated look to the floor.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Mind his chest, Paulie," Annie reminds from the sidelines, her tone casual enough. Really, it's as if she's just watching two kids wrestle on the playground.

    "Let *go*," John growls with a little jerk of one shoulder and arm as if he's trying to break free, or emphasize his words. It's not like he doesn't know he's not getting loose. But it also seems most of the fight is already gone from him. Times past, this might have gone on for a good twenty before John either wore out or saw reason. He's reached the point, already, that he's unlikely to bolt like an idiot when he's set down. Grouse and be pissy? That might last a bit longer though.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I am, I am, got him around his middle, don't I?" Paulie replies to the nun, and then he pullss back, and with John still off his feet, he turns John to the girls. "I /should/ make you apologize to them." he murmurs, and then sits the angry blonde man down.

    "Now. Sit. Drink water. We'll get you toast, and if you can keep that one down maybe we'll order from the chippy down the block for dinner." he states, and then reaches up to straighten his nose. It'll heal up in a bit, just stupid and painful and mishapen at the moment.

    "Now. We have a partial name. That's better than no name at all. We have one of the best damn magic-users in the world, a highly competant nun and a wee lass with glowy powers, and a mostly washed-up angel. And you had that damn root. Your head must be in a sorry state."

John Constantine has posed:
    Paul is not wrong, that Dream Root is nothing to be taken lightly. Shite lingers a bit, fogging things up, twisting stuff around, making bad things seem like good ideas and good seem bad and really bad seem worse... and is that a face melting on the wall over there? John turns away from the face melting spot on the wall and settles restlessly onto the couch again.

    "I could find her and deal with it if you'd just bloody well *let me*, Paulie." CRANKY. ...but he's not going anywhere, he's sitting. It goes a long way in showing how much he respects and loves that mostly washed-up Angel.

    Annie wraps her arm around Phoebe's waist and gives a gentle squeeze. "Now don't fret over this, luv. Boys will be boys and all it. They *do* this, it's just them. They'll kiss and make up in a bit, they will. Paul's nose'll heal up fine and pretty as ever, John'll feel bad for it. But the important bit is that ... well, John's not off on a tear getting himself torn to pieces by something he doesn't understand yet." She's quiet about it, but the room's small.

    ...and John's making 'yackety-yack' motions with his hand and that 'mocking the mom' face. Jerk.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Thank you, Annie, but it's... it's my fault. I should have recognized he needed to rest and instead I just dumped info on him." Phoebe relies to the nun, though he wrings her hands a moment, not precisely used to any physical affection. It still weirds her out "Anyone who tries to protect me is going to get in the crosshairs and--"

    "And we've only got room for one drama queen to night, and John's already filled the bill to the brim." Paulie crows good-naturedly, making a few faces as he stretches his nose and skin. "But I think first thing is first-- John, do you even know who you have been housing?" Paul states, and goes to sit on the couch, next to John. "Because in my existence, I've never known a mere human who can use any sort of healing magic at her level, on pure instinct."

John Constantine has posed:
    "I know what she can do," John replies, still all grump and grouse and nervous energy that wants to be up and doing something instead of just sitting there. "Knowing what she can do and what she *is*, two different things, that," because he decided a long time ao that she's not just a 'mere human'.

    And John does know the difficulty that comes with healing for most people, even practiced magic users, it's why he doesn't do it on the regular. It's also why what he does next is like to only irritate Paulie more. Maybe that's why he does it? At least a tiny little fraction of a bit of the why. The bigger bit is that he *does* feel bad about that whole nose thing.

    It all happens at once, not much time to react when all the pieces are happening at the same time. His hand strays over to touch Paulie's face, while the other one curls a little into a fist in front of his own mouth, words murmured in Latin; something about prices paid and injuries mended. A little puff of air into that loose fist turns to something shimmering in the air before it hits Paulie square in the face to heal that broken nose.

    See, that's the thing about healing magic with *everyone else*, there's a price to be paid for it. It's a small one this time, but if John was to do that a *lot*, well... it's not in a physical sense that he takes on that broken nose himself, but he does - for a moment, just a blink - feel the pain of it and his head rocks back, hands to his face. Ow. It's in the metaphysical sense that the price is truly paid, just a little tiny bit of himself, of life stuff that keeps a person walking and talking and breathing. Just a pinch no bigger than a pinch of salt in a recipe this time. There won't be a lasting effect, but the effects of doing so *stack*. Good thing he doesn't do it often.

    Bad thing that Paulie definitely knows the costs, the stacking of them, how unnecessary that was and how they've probably even talked about it before: Healing's bad John, it takes too much, it messes with the order of things, and what it takes doesn't come *back*, don't *do it*.

    But he did it, didn't he? *ASSHOLE*.

    After, as if nothing happened, "I have the location of a village that isn't one anymore, that's where I need to go next, for the next puzzle piece that might tell us what Phoebe *is*." He looks up at the girl in the process of speaking the words, no he hasn't forgotten she's actually *here*.

    "You sound just like him," Annie points out quietly. "...and you need to stop it now, nip that in the bud before you *become* him," the last whispered so low Phoebe will barely hear it... and it's spoken a little like a prayer.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe is fully aware that she's able to do something remarkable. It's why she felt so driven to do something better for the world. Something better for everyone... and man, how that crashed and burned, to the point where she's holding onto a Nun's hand as she watches John as the latter reaches over to touch Paulie's face.

    She gives a hitch of a breath, and she brings her hand up to cover her own nose, looking on in mixed horror as she *felt* that pinch of salt, and she almost steps forward to stop John. She could do it-- but there's no stopping John.

    Which is why Paulie has this look of resignation on his face as his nose straightens and heals itself.

    "John." Paul states sternly, looking over at the asshole mage with disapproval, looking to his lover and reaching to grab his wrist.

    "Do not. Do that. Again." he warns gently. "Yes. Knowing what she is, and knowing what she can do are two separate paths, but they are running along side one another." he states, and then mutters "I could have done it myself. I'm not that far gone yet."

    Phoebe looks to Annie, and then shakes her head. "I don't think there's much choice in the matter."

John Constantine has posed:
    John attempts to pull his wrist free, an attempt he knows will only happen if Paul allows it. He's no match for the Angel in a strength to strength way. He is, however, a match in sheer force of will. "I fix my own shite mistakes, Paulie," he points out... still grumpy but admitting he *made* the mistake.

    "So then, it's to this village that isn't anymore," John repeats. "Next step." Of course he sounds like he's ready to just go right now and keep pressing until he has all the answers. That's just who John is, get the job done right? Eve if it means pushing himself to the point of near death, a few times even that.

    It's telling though, that he's not just getting up and *going*. He could, he has the coordinates, he has ownership of the House of Mystery, he could stand up and walk right through the latter and to the former. But he doesn't... instead he side-eyes Paul, almost like he's waiting for the other man to 'agree'. Seems the Angel has the Demon Blooded Mage tamed a bit, *for now*.

    "There's always a choice when it comes to carrying around guilt that *isn't yours*," Annie points out, louder this time; the room needs to hear that bit, all of them really, but particularly the trench-coated asshole on the sofa.

    ...who only rolls his eyes, curls up a lip in a little bit of a mocking sneer and bobbles his head slightly from side to side like 'whatever'.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... but in this case, it is mine. I asked for his help, and pulled him in without giving him everything I knew. Everything I could do. He got hurt. Chas got hurt. My friends are all targets, and now you're a target." Phoebe states to Annie, and she rubs the back of her neck quietly, and then looks over at everyone.

    "So... his hurts, with this, are kind of my responsibility, because if I had told him ahead of time that I was pretty sure it was a blood relative, he could have had a way more significant upper hand.Taken her by surprise. Maybe even just ended it at their first encounter." she looks at her hands a moment, closing her fingers over her palms, shoulders drawing up.

    "Annie's right. This particular round of guilt isn't your, lass. John's an asshole, aye, and tougher than he looks." he holds John's wrist still. The angel's unmoved, and he turns to John.

    "So, what does she know?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "Enough for now. It's her cousin that's after her," John tells Paul and the words are delivered along with a pointed look, complete with a tilt of his head and scrunch of his nose and a slight narrowing of those faded denim blues. No, he's not ready to spill it all, tell the kid about her mother and his own encounter with them both so many years ago. Not yet, not until there's more to tell.

    Then those blue eyes widen a little. Uh-oh, that's never a look that means anything good. "I need to go back," he states suddenly and in that 'frantic' rushed way he speaks when he's suddenly found himself on to something that he didn't know he was on to seconds before. "...not in the Walk About way," he adds just as quick for Paulie's sake before the man can get his panties twisted into a wad. "...rewind again though, need to do that. Something else happened. It's there, but it's not. I can't remember... Fuck, I can't remember. After the hotel... it was after the hotel, maybe before morning."

    His voice is all distant and soft and ... a little crazy sounding. He's also, without even thinking on it, revealing that there are things to be *remembered* by him from that hotel.

    "I need more Dream Root... no... no maybe Peyote. Both, maybe both. I can *smell it*. What *is* that..." A memory he's talking about there, not something in the room but it might be difficult to tell the difference.

    "Paul..." Annie draws out the name like - dooooo something, he's derailing. "Maybe we should go into the kitchen and see about that lunch, aye?" she suggests to Phoebe along with another light squeeze and an attempt to guide the girl in that direction.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "John. Use your words." Paulie states, and he reaches over to grab John. HIs voice comes in a low hum, calming, and he takes a deep breath.

    "You are not getting more dream root. You are /not/ having Peyote. I don't have any acid or anything else that might fitthe bill, but you need to take a breath." he states, trying to talk John down from going and seeking something, going back to the hotel.

    "What did you miss in the walk-about?" he asks, pulling John closer. holding his wrists firmly.

    "But if he saw something after they were there --" Phoebe protests to Annie, and then she straightens a moment, trying to resist as Annie gives a squeeze around her middle

John Constantine has posed:
    If his wrists were free, he'd be doing that little pointing 'I got it' thing. But they're not so he doesn't. "Ololiuqui... that's what I need. That'll do it, it'll work so I can go back ... " It's a process, the slow shift of his attention from somewhere vague and distant over Paulie's shoulder to the man's actual face. ... a blink, two... three. That little 'huff' of a breath, kind of confused and irritated at the same time.

    Finally an annoyed, little too loud, "I don't *know*, Paulie, that's the fuckin' point. They did something that night, with *me* there. Chanting... but I can't *hear it* now, just the cadence of it. A ritual. I don't *fucking know* that's why I need to rewind it again."

    Annie's pretty persistent now at trying to tug Phoebe along, spare the girl a direct look into the 'mad' side of John Constantine, the manic craziness of John on the scent of something and in 'full speed ahead' obsessive mode. "Come along now, dear, food's important. John needs to eat." Ohhhhh, what a manipulative little Nun, pulling out the 'John needs' card.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "-- no you're right, he's got nothing in him." Phoebe replies, and caregiver overrides her curiosity, and Phoebe is steered into the kitchen "no wonder he's in a bad mood. Hangry -- do... do you get updates to vernacular? You're not cloistered, are you?" she asks Annie in curiosity, and she's busied by instruction on toast and weird European outlets.

    Paulie, meanwhile, still holds John's wrists in place.

    "So you think one of the two who you were there with set a spell on you?" he questions, "It looked like the older one did, but it seemed... protective." he considers quietly, his thumbs rubbing John's wrists before he brings them down, now that John is far calmer and less combattive. Yay!

John Constantine has posed:
    "No, not then. I don't think it was in the *room*. Maybe it was. It wasn't just a spell." He's frustrated and it shows, but what shows more than the frustration is the *tired* of him, the headache left behind by the Dream Root that has him squinting against the light in the room, the drain the whole spell and the subsequent sudden decision to go Walking About in the past caused.

    It's a vicious cycle with John really. He does one thing that wears him out, as it should, as is normal... but the exhaustion of it just brings about a clouded mind, clouded judgement and manic state of 'tired but so fucking wired'. Common thing really, with a bipolar type person. "I just need to rewind it one more time. But not there, not at the hotel, not the *space*." Not making much sense that, to most, but Paul *might* get it just from having spent so much time speaking 'John'. "Rewind *me*..." As in his memories, because they're *there* even if they're obscured by the fog of drink, a fight and a spell to heal a broken jaw, it's *there*.

    ...finding it, however, would entail a mammoth, near impossible level of waking lucid dreaming even when he's well rested. Doing it in his current state? Would be so much bad.

    "Hangry is part of it, luv," Annie agrees while verifying that she is not cloistered and does know some updated vernacular. "...but part of it is just John on a tear. I *know* you care about him. We all do. But..." She lowers her voice to 'kitchen only' levels and adds, "He's not exactly *stable*."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "And what would that do, rewind you to such a state? Paul asks as he holds John's hands in his lap. The angel's voice is clear and soft, just for their conversation. "What are the things you might have missed?" he questions gently "What do you think you might find? What are you hoping to find?" he asks, and reaches up to smooth back John's hair. Just a calming little rub against his temple. Definitely not trying to talk John out of playing with his own memories while exhausted and high as all get out.

    "I know he's not. He's... broken. Put back together in about a thousand different places. But he's got a good heart. I mean, who just offers a spare bedroom to a homeless kid?" she asks quietly, and then gives a small smile, and looks to Annie.

    "Chas told me, a little bit, about what happened to him. Antisocial behavior, fighting, carrying intense guilt, hyperfocus, high ups and downs -- people do odd things in desperation."

John Constantine has posed:
    "I don't. fucking. know, Paulie." John's voice is a little barky, but that bark seems more internally focused, at himself, more than at Paul. "All that talk about the 'power' she felt in me, wanting me... I think Yasmin was pregnant with Phoebe then. It may not have a thing to do with anything, but they performed some kind of ritual that night and I was there... so if it does, have something to do with something?"

    That whole 'calming Paulie' routine the Angel has going on? It's a double-edged sword. On the one hand, John does seem to be chillin' out a little bit. On the other? Along with the chill, the adrenaline starts to fade. Hands start shaking, color's a little off, the fullness of the Dream Root 'afters' is hitting. His head drops back against the sofa and he stares up at the ceiling while mumbling, "I don't feel good, Paulie." Smacked upside the head by his own limits in spite of himself.

    "Aye, he does have a good heart, a big one..." Annie agrees as she's rummaging about to gather all the stuff needed for a light lunch of things like those cucumber sandwiches. "...he's also got a big 'mind', when it comes to this occult business, he has so much rattlin' around up there that it's just racing around a mile a second. If I'd have known it, I probably never would have..." But she shakes her head to quickly dismiss that avenue of conversation and adds, "So, as long as Paulie out there can keep John from imploding, there's no better qualified to help get you sorted than John Constantine and his big old mind full of the knowledge of things."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I know, John. We're going to get some food in you. You'll feel better. Maybe you should consider -- you know -- your apprentice, her abilities, maybe asking for a hand getting back on your feet every now and again?" Paul states, continuing to pet on John's forehead as he looks a little to the kitchen, and then looks to John.

    "Here," he reaches down, and brings up a bottle of water. He cracks it, and offers it to John. "Drink something other than scotch."

    Cucumber sandwiches are a bit of a misnomer -- it's basically just slices of English Cukes with some soft butter between. Perfect for tea and light lunch with a little salt and pepper. Phoebe's got toast handled, and was setting about searching the apartment for plates as she looks up to Annie, and gives a small smile.

    "I know. He reminds me of my dad. Big heart, and just so much stuff rattling in his brain. Except my dad's rattling was like, motorcycle mechanic manuals and song lyrics to 80's tunes." Phoebe gives a smile, although pained, at a memory -- but she doesn't miss the skip of the avenue. Her eyebrows go up a moment as she sits back on her legs.

    "... you're concerned I'm going to turn out like him, aren't you?"

John Constantine has posed:
    John takes the water and actually polishes off the bottle before it's over. Dehydration demands fixing once the fix is directly presented. He shakes his head a little and locks blues to blues with Paulie. "Can't do that, love. Magic has a price to be paid and it's for a reason. If there wasn't a price, if a person didn't *feel* it, they'd keep doin' it, all the time... for everything and it can't be the answer to *everything*." He leans back again, those faded blues close, he licks lips still dry despite that whole bottle of water and adds, "I'm cold." And sleepy, he sounds so very sleepy. "I need to know what they did that night." Sleepy or not, still focused - obsessed - on all it.

    "It's only a hop skip," Annie replies quietly, sadly even. "It only takes one mistake. You already try to blame yourself for things not your fault, what happens when it truly *is* your fault, at least in part? ...and it tears you apart as it did him. We were all there though, any one of us could have put a stop to it. We didn't because it's *John Constantine* and even back then? When he was barely older than you are now, he was all but impossible to deny."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    PAul pulls John close, arms wrapping around him as he holds the smaller, blonde man close. Safe and sound. Nothing was going to break into an angel's refuge to get at anyone here. Paulie might have taken a hell of a fall, but he was still a guardian at heart.

    "When's the last time you put a dime in a jukebox?" he asks. "You know she cares enough for you to follow you. She wants to help. Instead, you push yourself to exhaustion and bleeding all over the bloody place, and then what? You end up needing to be pulled back from the edge." he states quietly.

    "I've already made mistakes." Phoebe counters, "Lots of them. Because I'm young and inexperienced and none of the adults in my life before John really had any sort of... experience with magic. I was a last resort." she frowns, and hops up to her feet. She doesn't need to push, just up she goes, and her feet are beneath her. "I grew up in a Catholic household. Which is why talking the occult with a Nun is just so backwards in my mind, because Sister Gertie would have wanted to take a ruler to my hands. I tried to be good, and my dad was taken from me. I tried to be good and take the meds and be a normal girl, but then I had a bit of a falling out with everything and... John saw it. I'm sure he did. Two attempts... with nothing afterwards. I've made tons of mistakes -- just, all on my part. Now that there's more people involved, people I've let into my life, now I want to learn how to control it so that they don't end up in crosshairs. My friends... they're strong, but when faced with acid-spitting necromantic dogs that can change their faces from their chests to their backs to spit more acid, I mean--" Phoebe gives a tense shrug, and a mildly exasperated look "They don't teach anything about that in Sunday School or in the Gotham City Public Education system?!"

John Constantine has posed:
    "What kind of edges would I jump from if there wasn't a need to be pulled back from'm," John replies in that sleepy little voice, words all slurred and sloshed. But they do make sense. If there wasn't a *cost* to it all, if it all came for free... how long before the balance tipped all sideways? How long before the freedom caught up. Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, innit? How long before Synchronicity called in the balance and he truly had nothing left to lose?

    He snuggles in so close and goes still and silent. He's not asleep, not yet, breathing isn't even enough for all that, but it might not be long.

    "See, still blaming yourself for things not your fault," Annie recounters just as quietly. "Seems to me, this person that's after you might be more held responsible for the losses than you? So, what when it is truly your fault?" Same question repeated. "Astra? Was his fault. Blame can be spread a little 'tween all of us, but he got cocky with it, let the feeling of all that power just run away with him. He cast that spell, he summoned that demon. It's something that can be forgiven, tossed up to inexperience, but they were *his* actions and now he lives with them the best that he can. Did your *actions* cost your father his life? Truth of it. Directly, did they?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Because if I hadn't... maybe if I..." Phoebe stammers a moment, and she tilts her head back, and presses her lips together and gives a frustraited sound. Because, of all people, the sudden influx of magical adults in her life who would understand are made harder to argue with.

    "No. No action of mine was the cause of my dad's death. I'm not responsible for anyone's actions but my own, and their results are mine." she replies, as if it were a common thing, and she's quiet for a moment. "He died because he was a fireman. He runs into danger. That's what happens to people when they run into danger. They die." Phoebe states, a little dully, as if it was a phrase she had to learn by rote once upon a time. Her hands shake a little bit as she slices more cucumber.

    "Wee ones, John. Speedbumps. Where all we might have to worry about is a sprain to an ankle or a stoved toe." Paulie states, holding John carefully against him.

    "Don't fall asleep yet. If Annie comes out and you don't eat something, she'll be cross with both of us. And you know Phoebe'd be on her side."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Might come down to sleep or pukin'," John murmurs in reply. "Fuckin' *Dream Root*." He truly does hate the stuff and just about anything that gets him to that state, it's all gross and all of it has horrible side effects in the after of it. Why can't he just do a bump of coke or something to 'get there'?

    "Can't be without a price worth the end." John shifts a little, getting more comfortable and that much closer to falling asleep.

    "First part you got down," Annie murmurs. "Second needs work because it's not just those that run to it that die, everyone does in the end." She gathers up the food prepared and starts for the living room. She sighs at the sight of them, but it's more a fond sound than anything. "Well then, think you can rouse him enough to eat something? Just a wee bit?" If not, at least it looks like he'll be *sleeping* rather than running off half cocked and crazed to do something he really hasn't the gas left to do.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Look, my psychologist would probably have a heart attack if he knew what I've been doing, he's the one who wrote it." Phoebe admits quietly to Annie, and her nose wrinkles. "Never really liked him."

    In the livingroom, Paul's voice can be heard clearly: "I told him you'd scold him, and Phoebe would help. Then both his hands would be flappin' and we might get a laugh." Paulie states, and he shifts his weight, leaning John up.

    There's cups of tea set down, with some plain toast in front of John, and a plate of cucumber sandwiches with a little too much butter.

    "Ah, excellent. Nicely done, girls. John, eat. And then, maybe... once we're sure you're not about to keel over, we'll discuss going back.

John Constantine has posed:
    The sound John makes when he's so *rudely* shoved into an upright position when all he really wanted was to stay right where he was... it's halfway between the most pitiful sound ever to come out of a man in the history of time and... the trademark annoyed asshole that is John Constantine. "Aye, good job, so hard to spread butter on some cukes, real talent that," he grumbles. Such an asshole!

    Snark's a good thing though, it's when the snark stops completely that the worry should set in. He'll get the toast down and one or two of the rest of it, but the tea's skipped over in favor of the stuff in the flask in his pocket. ...enough to take the edge off anyway. It's easy to forget, with all the rest of the 'edge' that the truth of it is ... John's an actual alcoholic. Too long without the stuff and it starts to get bad.

    "Don't be a wanker, John," Annie retorts, but damned if she's not smiling a little. ... because that's their John, all snark and arrogance. He wouldn't be the same without all that, now would he?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I've never made them before." Phoebe answers back as she just folds herself down, legs crossed, and sits on the floor. Even in the apartment, unless she was doing something on the counter, she was always sitting on the floor. She holds a cup of tea in her hands, but doesn't seem particularly hungry after John's comments or the talk in the kitchen. She keeps her eyes down, though she knows what's in the flask.

    "Eat your toast and be thankful, John, we could have made you cook." Paul gives a slight grin. "If you can keep the toast down, maybe we'll get something a bit more substantial in a bit, yeah? But between what we saw in the room, and poor Annie and Phoebe getting a truck launched at them, I think it's fair to say that a little snack was in order. And besides.... I... haven't had the chance to do the shopping. On account of an urgent message to meet someone in Liverpool this morning." he jokes.

John Constantine has posed:
    It's just the most 'barely there' things. It's in the way John's chewing of the food in his mouth slows for a beat, in that slight tensing of his shoulders, the quick beat of a glance in Annie's direction with faded blues and in the way it all happened when Paul mentioned the truck. Guilt.

    Because, you see, John and Phoebe are so very much alike. He should have stopped the bitch sooner, not got so caught in everything else that he didn't pay enough attention to all of the rest of it. Should have went after her from the get go, day one, put an end to her and all it and then? Well, Annie wouldn't have almost been mowed down by a truck today. It's his *job*, his *calling* to fix shit like this and he failed to do so in time.

    It's a little hard for him to swallow that last little bit of that third cucumber sandwich and he washes it down with a big swig from that flask. "Making me cook would have just been torturin' yourselves, so why?" he replies without skipping too much more of a beat.

    Annie's been distant, separate from it all for a bit. She doesn't notice the tiny little tells. She just laughs and agrees, "Food poisoning for all, I'm sure." She nudges Phoebe gently with her knee in passing to a chair in the room. "You too, luv. We can't expect a manchild to do as we ask if he doesn't see us doing so as well." As far as Annie goes, she's more than happy to put away her share of both food and tea.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well not fair for you to torture yourself alone, is it?" Paul remarks. Because everyone here is so guilty except for the angel. He's the only one who had a choice, really. He knows it to be true. And he was about to say something about torturing him, but thinks better of it on account of a nun and a child in the room, and instead, his cheeks flush a moment, and his eyes look up in such a way that John *knows* there was going to be a dirty joke behind it. Because with Paul, its easy to tell.

    "I'm all right, Annie. Stomach's still a little neegghhh from the adreniline is all." Phoebe states with a small smile, trying to reassure everyone that she's fine. "Besides, not like I have any control over John. I'm just the kid."

John Constantine has posed:
    John, however, does not have the same issues with a Nun and a Child as Paul seems to. He pushes himself to his feet and, in doing so, a hand lands on Paulie's thigh, really far up on that thigh, really really far up. "It's only torture if I'm not allowed to say banana pudding," he offers with a wink in the poor Angel's direction. "I'm gonna take a shower, see if I can shake this 'feeling' with some cold water."

    "What in Heaven's name does *banana pudding* have to do with the price of tea in China?!" Annie blurts out. ...as if she doesn't know. She wasn't *always* a nun, but it's a good cover for the child in the room, right?

    Just a bit of a light moment in the dark, a pause on the pressure of it all, a bit of a breather until John decides he's had enough time to come up for air, then it's like than not to be a rip roaring tear toward putting an end to it all without looking out for ledges and cliffs. Because it wouldn't be John if it were any other way.