7972/Birthright: Memory Lane pt2

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Birthright: Memory Lane pt2
Date of Scene: 24 September 2021
Location: Liverpool, England, UK
Synopsis: John Constantine takes another trip down Memory Lane, this time uninterrupted by the Lady in Red, Asenath. Does he get the answers he's looking for?
Cast of Characters: Phoebe Beacon, John Constantine




Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Incidentally, it may be revealed that Phoebe in spite of a recent round trip, does *not* like airplanes, so when she arrives at the plain door leading to the House of Mystery wearing a sweatshirt against the chill, along with a een shirt with a cream-colored skull outline and torn jeans along with her new, tough backpack, hood up to protect her from being recognized by anyone who might want to stop and chat, she gives a rap at the door, tapping the toes of her boots against the ground. Nice and sturdy, these boots. She even broke down and got leather ones, on Chas's recommendation, and was excited to get to go on a trip that maybe didn't involve possible death gods or falling into Hell.

    She was, however, mildly surprised when upon entry, she saw Paul. Still sporting a bruise on his jaw, wearing trousers and a golf shirt beneath his jacket, who looks at her with equal surprise and awkwardness as he rubs his hand over the back of his head.

    "... we're ok, yeah?" he ventures, and Phoebe just gives a small nod.

    Must not mention cold-cocking an angel. That'd be bad.

John Constantine has posed:
    It's been established that Paul is no fan of John taking Dream Root, so it's likely he's even less of a fan of Ololiuqui, but that's the catalyst of choice for the night. He's already drawn up a circle on the floor in the parlor that's suspiciously clear of furniture now save that one fainting cough. John needed the room.

    He settles himself in the center of the circle after having ingested a healthy, or maybe unhealthy, dose of a tea made with the seeds of Morning Glories and takes a deep breath. Whatever's going on between Phoebe and Paul, he mostly doesn't notice, or rather he doesn't bring any of it up *now*.

    It'll only be a few moments before he's trippin' balls six ways to Sunday on a trip down memory lane. "Paulie..." It's just a prompt, 'it's time'. The Angel's job is to sit in the circle with John and take that trip with him. Fortunately the spell will allow for the mental link and Paul won't have to imbide himself.

    "Phoebe," Chas greets through a slightly clenched jaw. He doesn't like this, at all. He's lived some of John's memory lane, after all. But he's here to do his job. Pull'm both out of it if the need arises.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a nod, and a gentle smile to Chas. Everything's going to be okay. She sits off to the side. Her job? Should things go Super South, listen to Chas and Paul. See if she can get it out of the system.

    Paul, meanwhile, takes off his jacket and his shoes, and sits down in the circle with John. He breathes out evenly, and reses his hands, finger-tip light, against John's knees to take a trip down memory lane and stay with him.

    "... so he's taken the hallucinagenic morning glory tea and he's going to be tripping out. We're here for the bad trip possibility, right?" Phoebe asks Chas quietly.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Pretty much," Chas replies. He's chewing his left thumb nail. Man needs a glass to polish!

    When the stuff first takes effect and the spell kicks in, the circle flashes bright white around the two men and then fades to normal. John's eyes roll a little, eyelids fluttering, he turns a little white around the lips, feels like he might puke and then BAM. Him and Paul are on that walk.

    It's Paul's job to guide and the reason Paul's been chosen for the job is that, well, he's seen a lot of this when he still had his wings. He's seen enough to not be shocked anyway. The first memory isn't a pleasant one. John hiding in his room, in the back of the closet as his father rages, drunk, downstairs. He can't be any older than about six.

    ...and adult John, walking the path, just stands there transfixed by the memory.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... I have a fidgit spinner and a stim-toy if you want it. Might help with the nervous hands." Phoebe whispers to Chas. Because, of course, working with all manner of people, she has equipment for it.

    Paul recalls, and watches. He stands near John, reaching gently for his shoulder.

    "We need to not be lost here, John." he states gently. "This does us no good," he ventures, looking at the wee little John, hiding in the dark, terrified.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I just don't like this," Chas admits in barely a whisper. "Who knows what they..." He seems to remember that he's talking to a *kid* and shuts his yap. "I'll be okay." But his thumbnail begs to differ.

    "He didn't deserve that," John whispers in both his mind's eye and in the real world. "I didn't... deserve it." But he turns and walks away because there's nothing to be done about it now.

    Not all of the memories are bad. The first time he met Chas and they shared a smoke. That time him and Paul ate an entire chocolate cake. The time him and Nettie made out... move along now Paulie! Of course some of them are awful, more than rightly should be fore a man his age really. The bad part is that they're all jumbled and out of order and before he makes it to the night he needs to see...

    They're in a club in Newcastle and a young girl is possessed by a demon. The actual deed that damned Astra to Hell hasn't happened yet, the crew is just arriving.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe just reaches into her bag and pulls out a silicone slug, and offers it to Chas. "Worry slug. I used to have them for my anxiety attacks when I was little. I don't keep glass in my bag for polishing." she offers as a slight bit of humour, and then turns back and watches the two. ".. you know who I work with. There's not... a lot that I haven't seen on this side. And I mean, I grew up pretty much after Gotham was nearly wiped off the map. I'm not saying that I've seen it all, Chas..." Phoebe turns back to the best cabbie, mate, pseudo-dad in the world, her hand still holding an articulated silicone slug. "... but I'm going to."

    "No child does." Paul counters gently. "You still don't." he adds after a moment. Through the memories. Chas and John, thick as theives and smoking at a whole ten years old.

    That cake was the second cake Paulie had ever had. He thought sharing it with someone would have made the stomachache afterwards lesser. It didn't. John and Nettie necking, her gray hair cut short and stuck with so much hairspray and wearing a stolen Mucas Membrane T-shirt and -- oh yes, moving along, moving along.

    Encounters with drugs, demons, ghosts, some easy, some far mroe difficult until --

    "... you didn't say you were coming here, John." Paulie states, now hesitant.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I don't want to be here," John replies, the words barely a whisper in both places. The thing about walks like these, the path isn't completely under the walker's control. ...John doesn't want to be there, but he just stands there as if his feet are glued to the floor. "Paulie..."

    Chas's thumb drops from his mouth, he's just about to take the slug when that fear in John's voice has him moving forward a step. "Shit..." he mutters. Does he step in now? Wait? He sure looks as if he wants to step in, but then it's not done yet is it? John hasn't seen what he needs to see.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I've got you." Paulie states, and he reaches for John's shoulder again. "Remember the moment we met, face to face. It was raining, an alleyway. You were pale and scared. I held your hand until you stopped shaking." he whispers, and in the walk John might be able to feel the slightest movement of air, Paul's raggedy wings. "There is nothing we need to see here, John. Let's walk a different memory." he encourages gently.

    Phoebe lets the slug drop to the ground, and it bounces in its bright, happy, neon-orange flopping manner as she draws up to her knees. Her palms start to glow, as if getting ready to try and pull them from the walk the same way she managed to pull Nix back.

John Constantine has posed:
    Both in there and out, John's breaths come in ragged gasps for a few moments. His fear is a palpable thing, it really is. It's something Chas has seen before, certainly, but he's never let Phoebe see him afraid. One last desperate whisper of Paul's name later though and he's settling down again.

    Finally, a bar, two women being harassed, a little punk John to the rescue, all the things Paulie saw that night in the hotel room and they're where they need to be. What happened next? What happened that John doesn't remember. What's buried in the fog of drink and drugs and a spell to ease the pain?

    It's a little like swimming through muddied waters looking for a clear spot.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    This time, Phoebe's registerring the fear, and she tenses, visibly, looking momentarily to Chas for guidance before she just jumps in and --

    But John settles down. She breathes out, and she eases back to an 'at the ready' on her knees. Her fingers fidgit a little with a couple of threads on her jeans.

    What happened next indeed.

    This time there isn't interruption. The moment that John had stepped in passes, and Yazmin gently eases the young John up, and moves her lap from beneath him. The blond lad who had a split lip after punching a Neo-Nazi in the gob is laid down and tucked in gently as she moves, and begins to hum. Not quite Enochian, the cadence is off. The words though are *old*. And it is *strong* magic that she weaves around him to make him sleep through the night unbothered.

    Yazmin takes off her overshirt, and John would be able to see the beautiful, brightly colored tattoo work along her upper arm and over her shoulder, down to her back. She was, indeed, a living spellbook. Colors that should not show on her dark skin if they had been tattooed by any other means than magical are vibrant, and some look old, some slightly stretched and faded. Her pronunciation is perfect, passed down generation to generation, this protective mage working her magic to protect the little hero from her niece, bidding no one touch him until the sun rises -- 'I, Paisi, demand it so'

John Constantine has posed:
    John closes his eyes and turns the memories that were buried into new ones, fresh ones, at the front of his mind.

    Chas bends down to pick up that slug thing and squishes it and squishes it and squishes it. "He's fine," he murmurs quietly, but to convince himself or Phoebe?

    He certainly doesn't *look* fine though. John's no longer a bundle of fear with his heart pounding out of his chest, but he's pale and sweaty, trembling. It's the Ololiuqui, stuff can definitely be nasty. His eyes are all rolled back in his head now, only whites showing and that's always a little disturbing to watch.

    "Paulie, do you recognize that?" he asks in a normal voice *in there* and not even a whisper out, just moving lips.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Her language?" Paulie asks quietly. The way that the woman moves, the features along her face and her cheeks and her nose, Paulie is sure now that so many paths are crossing here that he could see. His protectorate, the woman who was called Yazmin in John's memories, who called herself something different. He breathes out, reaches to steady John's vision. "It's Old." he comments, and looks to John in the vision, his head tilting as if for listening for more -- the thudding of drums (or is it a heartbeat?), the vibrations of the bass shaking the cheap hotel (or is that just the unsteadiness of the memory?)

    Outside, Phoebe takes a deep breath and lets it out, willing her shoulders to relax as Chas squishes the bright orange slug.

    "He's got Paul with him. And he has us out here, and he's in his House... that's... pretty much as safe as he can be, given any circumstances... right?" she asks, the slightest note of unsure in her voice.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Right, he's fine," Chas replies... squish squish. He doesn't seem sure of the fact that, so many things can go wrong uncovering buried memories. Sometimes they're buried for a reason and digging them up, well...

    "I know it's old," John murmurs both in and out. "But what *is* it." Inside the dream or the memory or whatever it is, John turns in a circle. "What is that?" After he turns that one circle, he stands still and closes his eyes as if trying to focus on the 'what is it'. Drums? Is it drums? If so, following the sound is what he'll try to do. ...and quickly, pulling away from Paul in a way he knows he probably *shouldn't* but he isn't thinking about that now. He's only thinking about answers.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I would reckon it's maybe pre-Khemeti-- John where are you *going*?!" Paulie asks, reaching for John. "Don't wander off the lane, love!"

    THere are drums, of course there are. There's a pink show going down. Chas is probably searching for John because he's not going to want to deal with John's dad... nor does he really want to deal with his own mom. The other woman, Mya is still out there. Drums. A heart beat. A soft tattoo of living flesh on flesh.

    "You /do/ realized how ragin' pissed he's going to be once he realizes what we did, yeah?"

John Constantine has posed:
    One thing about this, unless more magic comes into play from outside, John and Paul are invisible, not even there, they're just watching a show. He slows a bit to allow Paul to keep up, but John walks right on up to Mya, inches from her truly and listens in.

    Pissed? About?

    Outside, John's trembling worsens to outright shaking and twitching, it's more than a little concerning to watch. Is it the strain of the spell? Effects of the ololiuqui? Both? Neither and something else entirely? It's really hard for the casual observer to tell. He's even drooling a little. Gross, magic can be so gross.

    Chas takes a step forward, stops himself and repeats, "He's fine... he's fine..." Squish... Squish... Squish.

    "What did you do, bitch?" John murmurs through a clenched jaw.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    That's why it's OK to puke. Magic can be gross. Especially when there's blood or dead things involved.

    Mya is walking. There's an outline of someone walking with her. Though Mya spoke in English, the figure does not. Paul is following John, the words twist about, like the grinding of metal against one another before friction starts to weld, but there's a moment's spell before he shares his ability.

    "It had to be done. Paisi is now carrying the blood of an outside occultist within. Edit the memory before you leave so he remembers her not. That boy... that John Constantine..." the figure pauses as Mya pulls on her jacket.

    "Kill him."

    "... what. Can't have fun with that one first?"

John Constantine has posed:
    Mya's walking and John's following, yes. Carries the blood of an outside occultist? Alter memories? Surely that's not about him. John barely registers, for now, that they planned on killing him. No, he's focused on something he feels is more important than himself, go figure?

    Who's Phoebe's father... Did he see him?

    Don't stray from the path, too late Paulie, John's way way way off the path now, he's outside anything he should rightly remember. He's where he shouldn't be.

    And the strain of holding that together, of holding on to the spell that he's altered on the fly to take him places outside of what's buried in his own mind, it's showing. His nose is bleeding, his hair's damp with sweat, his face is a ghastly shade of white that's beyond just pale. His muscles jerk and twitch.

    He should let go, but he doesn't. Because letting go, giving up when he's so close to more answers, it isn't what John Constantine does.

    Even in there, inside the spell, his nose is bleeding and his left eye, the white's turned a spiderweb of burst capillaries.

    "Fuck..." Chas mutters. He's the wrong man for this job, truly, all he *wants* to do is bust through that circle and break the spell, but he doesn't, not yet. He just squishes a slug. It's a wonder the thing doesn't pop.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It's solid silicone pour, nothing to pop.

    Phoebe's father doesn't show, but there's no indication of John being it.

    "Rami will be here in the morning to pick us up. I'll do it then, after she bids him goodbye. Though that stops her studies at Oxford." Mya states. "Once she goes with him, I'll slit the kid's throat and dump him in the pier. His friend will think those Nazis did it. The police will investigate them and we return. But recall your promise." Mya states, and she brings her hands to her hair to rough it up a bit.

    "I get the power Paisi has."

    "As long as the daughter breathes not." the figure agrees, and then is gone.

    And Mya pushes the button for the elevator.

    "John. /John/." Paulie tries to interrupt. "John, we have to turn back. You're coming apart." the angel states, reaching and trying to turn John back, pull him away from the past and what he can't and shouldn't be able to remember.

    "... Chas?" Phoebe asks, unsure. "I can... should I try to heal him? That might push the stuff out of his system early. Would that *hurt* him?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "I can do this, I can do... this," John murmurs in both places. In the past, he moves to follow Mya. Why *isn't* he dead? The rest of it is stored away, the bits about deals and power.

    On the outside, John slumps forward into Paulie, that shaking and trembling? It's bad enough now that it looks like a seizure, not the violent flopping fish sort, but near enough.

    "John!" Chas bellows, panic driving him to just the edge of the circle, but he doesn't cross it yet, not yet. He won't break the spell yet and he holds one staying hand out in Phoebe's direction.

    "We have to trust Paul.." the cabbie and best mate ever grits out through clenched teeth. It's clear that decision is *killing him*, but it's always better for a spell to end on its own rather than be snapped in two and broken.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Mya enjoys the night. Chas stops and asks if she's seen his friend, she answers 'never heard of a Constantine'. She listens to the bands until late in the night, the crowd thins, and some go upstairs. She goes to a party. She trades numbers with a few gents, and then she goes back to her room.

    John is there. He's asleep, peacefully, his wounds nearly completely healed by now. Yazmin -- Paisi is dozing on her side, her back to John and to the door as Mya returns, and her dark eyes focus on John.

    She draws a knife, and she slowly draws in as she begins to work her own spell, one of silence to cover her movements. It would be easy enough, late at night, no one would see them. She could wreathe herself in shadow.

    Paul leans forward, and wraps his arms around John. Blood stains the shoulder of his shirt, and he begins to murmur into his ear. Be strong. I'm with you. We are in this together. Get what you need and then we need to Get Out.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's in a place now where he should be, could be... he's not off the path. The twitching and jerking eases, blood still trickles from his nose but it's not the near gusher of a bleed it was before. Whatever damage has been done isn't going away, but there won't be more of it unless he strays again.

    ...but he's still barely holding the threads of it all together, until Paul whispers in his ear. "I can do this," he repeats a little more audibly and with more conviction. So, he holds it and he watches.

    Chas takes one step back from the edge of the circle once that horrible twitching and jerking stops. "Be ready, kid, just in case. I don't know... if whatever he's doing to himself can be healed." Since it's damage cause by the mystical shit. "...but if he's bad off when it's over, we need to try something?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a nervous gulp. "I've cleared dark magic from Wonder Woman... once. Healed holes in people's bodies. Took out ab abscessed tooth..." she trails off, but does *not* say aloud 'how bad can it be?' -- that's asking for trouble.

    Phoebe is still crouched, at the ready to dive in and take over from Paulie if needed, the instant John's back.

    Mya makes her approach, her knife raised up so that it is just above where the sleeping John's throat lay, that teenage Adam's apple bobbing as he sleeps.

    There's the barest flash of light as the blade comes down -- but it might as well have come down over stone. Nothing happens. No strike, no blood.

    John just sleeps through it as Paisi is grumpily roused from her sleep.

    "/Leksandria/." she hisses.

    The sun is rising, the spell is winding itself down, as Paisi scripted it. And Mya -- Leksandria -- scowls, and then reaches to shake John awake.

    "Wake up. /Wake up/. It's dawn, your friend is probably looking for you." she states, and gives a soft 'Peh.' "Was expecting /larger/. What is it they say about white boys?" she asks, incredulously, to cover up her own misdoings and thoughts, as Paisi rouses and dresses herself, covering those brilliantly colored tattoos.

John Constantine has posed:
    "How many names do these bitches *have*," John mutters. Not that he truly thinks Paisi' is a bitch, but man...

    And when past John wakes from all the shaking and such, present John wakes as well. When his eyes roll back to blue, the faded blue seems all the brighter for the red spidering around them.

    He's shivering and trembling violently, but not twitching and jerking, that's an improvement. Paul will find a blanket folded neatly beside them, compliments of the House. It's not a cheap hotel duvet though, it's a fuzzy blanket with yellow smiling sunshines all over it, the one from Paul's house, the one from Geraldine.

    Gods, but his head hurts, he's dizzy, confused, disoriented, cold... his vision isn't quite right. But John has something to hold on to in the aftermath of it all. He has Paul. He clings to the fallen Angel like a man drowning; because he feels, for the moment, a little like he might be drowning.

    But it's more than just Paulie, he knows Phoebe and Chas are right there too. He's not *alone*. How many times has he done shit like this and come around after, alone, on a cold floor in the middle of some stupid circle? Too many to count.

    Some of it, Phoebe will be able to take away, the side effects of the drugs in his system. But some of it, the burst capillaries in his eyes, the splitting headache... it'll linger for a bit because magic *always* has a price, especially when pushed a wee bit too far.

    The price, however, is so much easier to pay when there's comfort and caring found in the wake of it.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    As many as we need to hide, John Constan/tyne/.

    "Thank you," Paul says to the house, picking up the fuzzy smiling sunshine blanket and wrapping it around John's shoulders and holding him gently, and he leans his forehead against John's sweaty forehead, taking a deep breath. Holding him a moment.

    "Did you get what you needed this time? We are *not* going back there. I don't want you to go back for a time now, John. It's harder when you don't take breaks." he whispers against John's forehead.

    Phoebe crosses the circle after Chas does. She's warm to the touch as she brushes her fingers against John's head, checking his temperature, and then producing to John's side a bucket (just in case), and some damp paper towels for his face. She doesn't take on actual magicking him healed unless he asks. She learned that lesson.

    "... for a second, I thought your girl was going to have to give me a matching one to the other cheek." Paulie almost laughs, though he's relieved.

John Constantine has posed:
    Chas... hovers. He doesn't so much invade personal space, but he does hover. "Phoebe, can you get that shit out of him? If not, he'll start puking in about half an hour and probably won't stop until dawn. I've seen it, it's not pretty." Morning Glory, what a misnomer.

    John doesn't ask himself, because well, he's out of it. He barely manages a little bobble headed nod for Paul's benefit that could be yes... or no. He'd likely have been fine, just a little bit of a 'hang over' feeling once Phoebe got that crap out of his system... if he hadn't strayed from the path and forced his way into places he shouldn't have been.

    Maybe she'll sense it when she expels the toxins from John's body? How close he was to actually stroking out from that one little misstep, that little push too far. What he risked to try and find answers for her? ...and maybe a lesson learned? Pushing too hard is *never* a good idea when it comes to magic. But then again, John's one of the ones that runs toward it, innit he?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I can -- hold the bucket, because it's going to come out one way or another."

    Phoebe's nose wrinkles, and she takes a deep breath, and drops to her knees behind John so that Paul can hold him.

    She brings her hands up, gently placing one each one John's arms. Skin on skin contact is best, but a shirt's never done much to stop the healing. Her eyes close, and she concentrates, pulling on just the Healing string. She can feel the toxins, the way his liver and kidneys are working. She feels his heartbeat and his headache. The blood vessels expand, increasing bloodflow and easing his headache as warmth and cool draw through his veins. She's refined her draw enough that the burning of light and holy is distant at best.

John Constantine has posed:
    This part of it might have been better before Paul made his decision to stay AND to make sure John actually *ate* like a normal human being should. Before that, there wouldn't have been much to come up along with those toxins. Now there's actual food to come up with it, whatever the fallen Angel fed him for breakfast. It's chunkier, smells worse, splatters more. Magic is messy.

    But Chas holds the bucket stoically and without complaint so Paul can contend with the comforting part of all of it.

    When it's over and John pretty much collapses into something of a near catatonic sleep that he might not have allowed himself were he alone... they're no longer in the parlor. It might be Paul's first experience with just how sentient the House of Mystery really is, just what its capable of. They're in John's bedroom with that big old king sized feather bed only a few steps away. The bucket's gone to who knows where and Chas is left looking the fool holding nothing and to mutter, "I will *never* get used to that shit."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Paul looks mildly bewildered at the fact that he hadn't noticed the rooms change about. He does, in fact, look around and suddenly realize why John does *not* appreciate the house so much as he helps get John cleaned up a bit before he passes out, and Paul gives an 'up you get' and puts John to bed, clothes, shoes and all, because he's not about to start undressing him in front of Chas and especially not Phoebe.

    Phoebe, on the other hand, as she lifts her hands as all the toxins leave the body (AND MAN IS SHE HAPPY IT'S UP INSTEAD OF DOWN), and she's content that the residual healing will ease his poor throat until the demon blood kicks in, she leans back, sitting with her legs in a loose W on the floor and looks around. She opens her mouth, and then closes her mouth, and then she claps her hands and goes "... this is such a wonderful house!" ... and then

    "... wait, is this John's bedroom?!"

John Constantine has posed:
    It is John's bedroom. The walls are a pale shade of blue, the trim a darker blueish gray. All of the furniture is old, antique, dark cherry with pink ivory wood accents. The bed is a monstrous, four post thing of the same color wood. The mattress is all lumpy and bumpy in just the right way and soft as a cloud as *full on* down mattresses often are.

    It doesn't look like John at all. Until one looks at the weird magical bits and baubles on the dresser and the shelves, the books that contain all manner of spells and potion recipes.

    This time, John doesn't curse the Wretched Pile of Sticks and he might not even if he were awake to do so. He just sinks into that big old bed and sleeps the sleep of the dead, sound in the knowledge that Paul will be right there beside him when he wakes up.

    It's Chas that moves forward to at least remove John's shoes with an eyeroll shot in Paul's direction. "Man, *I've* stripped him down to skivvies more than once, no one here's going to mind *you* doing it," he points out.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Pretty sure she has not seen John in his skivvies, Chas! Poor thing's already bad influenced." Paul states, "what kind of airs is she going to start picking up after what she's done?" Paul states, but he's not to be outdone by Chas removing shoes. He removes John's tie, and loosens clothing enough to make John comfortable, and throws the happy sunshine blanket over him, and takes a breath.

    "Well. I hope he found what he's looking for now." Paul states, looking to Chas, and then to Phoebe, and then to Chas again. "I'm going to guess that she doesn't know what John was looking for in their 'shared' past?" he asks in amusement.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's so still and quiet that it has Chas a little unnerved. He can't help himself, he winds up pulling the blanket aside, then the shirt up, then the waist of those pants down *just* enough to get a peek at the crow tattooed on John's hip. He breathes a sigh of relief to see the thing roosted and not in flight.

    "I have no idea, Paul. He'll share what he's got when he's ready?" It's something Chas is infinitely used to by now. John Constantine shares with the class only when he's good and ready and it's usually once he has a near full story to tell and he often leaves bits out. It's just the way of things.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "He's asleep." Paul confirms. "No doubt he's still recovering from other things. Which, by the by -" Paul straightens up a moment, and rubs his eyes. "I'm so sodding sorry, Chas. For letting it get that bad on a promise that I should have broken for all your sakes."

    Paul motions everyone up, and towards the door "He'll come out when he's good and ready to be awake. And maybe we'll get a story we can tell. In the meantime -- Chas, I dare say this little ragamoffin has nearly a good right hook as you do."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Yeah, well, I wasn't gonna bring it up, but you're lucky she found the balls to do it before I did, Paul. I figure I'll come to terms with it for his sake, but how the hell could you..." Turn him *away* and tell him *no*. It's not hard to figure the end of that question even if Chas leaves it unsaid. "Just take care of him, Paul, 'cause he won't ever let anyone else in far enough to."

    ...and the dead moves. That is to say John shifts and turns more to side-stomach than back, face half buried in the pillow and one hand curled into a loose fist in front of his face. Just like a kid, he looks so fucking sweet when he's sleeping. Too bad he's such an ass when he's awake, innit?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Everyone looks sweet when they're sleeping. That's because generally they're not talking.

    "C'mon, out, let's let him recover." Paulie states, and Phoebe just looks distinctly uncomfortable with the conversation topic at hand, and instead has slipped out into the Hallway and puts a gentle hand to one of the walls. "If only you could talk. I bet you'd have a million interesting stories." she smiles. "Thank you for helping take care of John."

John Constantine has posed:
    Chas casts one last look at the sleeping John and then his gaze shifts back to Paul. It's softened just a little, if only because of the fact that John is *sleeping* and then he heads out the door. There's not much of a hallway though, just a little space between the bedroom - that's normally upstairs - and the parlor - that's normally downstairs. That's the House, always mixing things up.

    Should either Phoebe or Chas look back, the bedroom is gone and replaced by the staircase that normally leads up to the floor where said bedroom rests.

    "I really *hate* this place," Chas grumbles.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Oh how cool is *that*." Phoebe breathes. It's the first time she's been in past the parlor, and she is obviously very impressed and in fact low-key in love with this weirdness. Somewhat because it seems almost harmless. She looks to Chas with a bright grin, and she takes a breath, and lets it out slowly.

    Paul, meanwhile, stayed in the bedroom. To take care of John and make sure he has someone there for when he wakes up.

John Constantine has posed:
    And isn't that all anyone really needs after a rough bit of anything? Even Laughing Magicians? Just someone there for them when they finally wake up?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Especially the Laughing Magicians need someone to be there when they wake up after a rough trip. Meanwhile, Phoebe glances about, and then turns to Chas.

    "... probably should not go wandering, right?" she asks, almost giddily.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Absolutely not, Phoebe. This House... it's dangerous in that there are dangerous things in it, both living and not." Because, yes, there are things living locked away in cells here that no one wants to escape. Chas nods toward the front door. "Out. That's the only place we wander."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "That's what I figured." Phoebe states, and she grabs up her bag from the parlor. Maybe another time. Until then?

    Well, the house likes John, and that's the important thing.