8062/Check-in with Lydia

Check-in with Lydia
Date of Scene:	30 September 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	(Unfinished Log) Lydia and Phoebe catch up, John Constantine helps
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Lydia Dietrich, John Constantine

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Late nights at the Laughing Magician tend to bring out the more unusual patrons, and typically the jukebox would be playing old punk or classic rock, with the main event holding court at the end of the bar -- but it appears he might be busy elsewhere. At the moment, Chas is manning the bar by his lonesome, probably polishing glasses, while Phoebe occupies a back booth with a number of books, as she is wont to do when the gum's scraped off, the bathroom's been cleaned for the second time in the evening, and she's got a cup of sprite and a pile of seasoned french fries in front of her. Her hair is in shortened braids again, mostly to keep it all 'her' hair. Just in case someone needs another strand of it.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
There's been two events linked to the artifacts recovered from the Tome of the PRince of Khonsu and both of them have involved Phoebe, so she goes to the only place she knows she can reach her: The Laughing Magician.

The glowing green mutant walks into the bar and casts a glance around, hoping to see the girl somewhere in here. Seeing that she's here she nods in satisfaction and goes up to the bar to order herself a Manhattan. Chas gives her a funny look, but has since her last time here learned how to make the cocktail, and slides one over to her.

She moves over to the booth that Phoebe is occupying and says, "Hey. Mind if I join you for a bit?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe had looked up when Lydia walked in -- it's become habit for her, on the odd occasion she helps behind the bar, but she gives a smile when Lydia takes her manhattan, and she closes the book she was working out of, and slips the old leather-bound tome back into her bag.

    "Of course Lydia -- what's up? I don't often see you here in the bar." seh offer as a greeting, motioning to the seat accross from her.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"I'm not much of a bar goer," Lydia says, slipping into the booth opposite the girl. "At least, not this type of bar. But I wanted to check in on you, see how you were doing." She takes a sip of her Manhattan, and finding it acceptable, nods. "I've noticed that you're somehow tied to the Prince of Khonsu artifacts and it's got me worried, and I was hoping you could fill me in on that."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Priest, and it's a Priestess, the ribs and hips were all wrong to be a man..." she trails off a moment, and then she waggles her hands "mmost of the 'feminine' deformities didn't come about until later in the Dynasties thanks t--" she pauses and Phoebe looks at Lydia "Sorry, ah... Tim and I tend to get into deep discussion at a moment's notice. Nerds." she explains it away, and she presses her lips together a moment. She looks over to Chas.

    "... to be honest? John has way more of the detailed information," she adds on quietly, "but from hat I can surmise, someone's sending fake items over or cursing things, and it's probably a necromancer."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia chuckles at the self-deprecation. "It's alright. You can get as nerdy as you want with me. I find it fascinating." She shakes her head, "It wouldn't be the first time archaeology would have misgendered a corpse. Besides. You never know. Khonsu could have been a trans man."

"A necromancer," Lydia muses. "I figured as much. That's bad news. Do we have any idea what their endgame is? Why or how they got your blood for the museum pieces?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Khonsu's a moon god associated with healing. And as progressive as I am personally, I have to assume that unless noted otherwise the person should have been buried as a female. There weren't any weapons, but there were plenty of make up palettes." Phoebe points out, and she purses her lips a moment, and looks to Lydia.

    "... you don't follow much Gotham news, do you? And I don't blame you, it's generally depressing as all get out." Phoebe replies, and she pulls her drink closer.

    "She's after me. I think that's all we know of the endgame right now. There are a variety of... creatures. Constructs that come over from the astral to the physical world. L-like I said, John has more of the details, he's doing the investigating of it." Phoebe stammers a moment, her shoulders rising up.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"I've ... had a lot on my plate," Lydia admits with a wry chuckle. "You don't get to date the leader of the Brotherhood without having a load of things thrown your way. It's amazing that I find any time to write."

She looks puzzled. "Why would she want you? Wait," she interrupts herself. "Don't answer that. Probably wants to sacrifice you. That's really the only reason a necromancer would have anything to do with the living. I'll check in with John to get the details."

"How are /you/ holding up with all this? It's a lot to handle."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'm handling it." Phoebe states. Emancipated myself from my mom. No longer sleeping on couches--" she pauses a moment.

    "... man and I thought my personal life was complicated." she jokes.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia lets out some laughter, "Tell me about it. Good for you for getting emancipated, though. That's a big step." She takes a sip of her Manhattan, "Have you thought about going to college on top of all the madness?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe looks at Lydia with a level of certain questioning.

    "I can't. I got expelled from school, so unless I get my GED I don't qualify for it. I sought early emancipation so that someone couldn't /legally/ try to take custody of me." she shrugs, and she writes something down in a notebook.

    "... besides, until the necromancer is taken care of, I can't have regular schedules or listed places where I'll be. Too predictable. I've been kidnapped once already, I really, really don't want to be kidnapped again. That man... the one who sort of collapsed on himself? He ran a newspaper and put up a reward for my 'real' parents. He was responsible for a lot of BAd Stuff that happened."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia scowls. Not because Phoebe isn't able to go back to school but because people are actively trying to kidnap her. "Well, one thing at a time," she says. "First we get you safe. Then you can worry about your future. I know you're apprenticed to John, but if you haven't noticed," she grins, "being a mage isn't exactly a paying career."

She sighs, leaning back into the booth. "To be honest, if I were to do it again, I don't know if I'd have gone to college. At least not for English. It's helped some with my writing career, but I wanted to teach English, and I've never gotten a teaching job."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'm not worried about it being paying." Phoebe admits quietly, "I'm also a barback. I could always teach aikido with my old sensei if I'm hard-pressed. And I mean... Tim's got eyes in places. I could always ask him to help me get a job if I really needed it... but right now my future is pretty much 'not spend the holidays in the Dark'" she gives a smile to Lydia.

    "I was going into pre-med at Gotham U on a Fireman's Orphan scholarship. Tested for early acceptance to a competitive fast-track program,"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia nods. "That's a good goal. If you ever need help keeping yourself out of the Dark you can always call on me." She gives the girl a smirk, "After all, I glow."

"Pre-med," she muses. "That's quite an accomplishment."

John Constantine has posed:
    *BANGCLATTER* It comes from the backroom. Typically this sound means the House is pissed at John about something and dropped him out a hole in the floor rather than the usual 'walk through it' portal. This time there's a different reason for the ruckus.

    "Chas!" he bellows. "Call the cops, report a dead body under the new gazebo in that client's backyard, anonymous tip! It's the husband." 'Client'? Sometimes magic *is* a paying gig.

    "You mean the dead husband that's been *haunting her*, the one you went to set straight."

    "No, Chas, I mean the other one that she didn't tell us about, she has twelve!" Dripping with sarcasm.

    "No need to be dick, mate," Chas shoots back as he's pulling out his phone to make that call.

    "SHE BLOODY SHOT ME, IT'S MADE ME A WEE BIT GRUMPY, *CHAS*." John bellows back.

    "Well did you at least get paid first?" Chas asks, voice raised only enough to be heard back in the backroom. He's heading that way though, phone still to his ear.

    ...and sometimes those paying gigs go sideways.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a bright smile to Lydia then, and she laughs. "I've got the glow covered!" she admits, and she swirls her sprite in her glass. "No, Last year, during hte holidays, I was... I was gone. My house burned down in early Deceember. Thanks to some younger superheroes, my mom lived. She's still in recovery for a lot of injuries and burn scars. There's... some level of resentment, I think," she states softly, "... that I couldn't get to her to heal them in time." she whispers, not wanting Chas to hear.

    "So I was in a really dark place then, Lydia. I had these powers that I didn't understand, and I had no support system for magic... just a couple of friends with their own stuff going on and a couple of couches to sleep on."

    She gives a slight smile. "And yeah, pre-med kind of made the mot amount of sense considering--"

    And that's when there was a bang and a clatter, and Phoebe looks to Lydia, and then hops up. She goes to poke her head in after Chas walks through the door with his phone up, and asks:

    "How bad is the gunshot wound? Do I have to cut anything out?" she asks, as if this were a normal conversation to have.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Whatever it is that Lydia was about to say is interrupted by John's cataclysmic appearance. She listens in because, really, it's hard not to with all the shouting. And then Phoebe is gone.

Lydia sighs, and with a roll of the eyes she follows Phoebe into the back. "Hi John," she says conversationally, as if nothing is amiss. "Had a bad day at work?"

John Constantine has posed:

    It's fine, luv," John replies. He's sitting on the floor, Silk Cut already lit, flask out. Seems just a graze, but even those bleed and tear pants. It's the same thigh that got munched on by the last dog attack.

    "Let's contact the guy that exorcises demons and the dead, aye? Because certainly the angry spirit of my dead husband isn't going to *rat me out* to the first person that he can actually *speak to*," muttered, to himself.

    "Does it look like a *good day*?" John retorts to Lydia.

    Chas backs back out of the room a little when the other end of the phone comes to life with a real voice and not a dispatch recording. He makes that anonymous tip about a missing husband being buried in the backyard from a burner and hangs up.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "It's not fine, you're bleeding! If you can't take me with you to learn anything at least let me help with you not bleeding--" Phoebe complains from a place of caring, and she looks at the wound from afar, backing away a little to let Chas out of the room, and she hesitantly takes a step in, motioning for Lydia to stay where she is for the moment. "Right. Lydia stopped in to see how things were after the park."

    Phoebs at least gives a cursery look to the wound. "... small caliber or terrible shot, and importantly was it the murder weapon?"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"Well, considering that you only got grazed, and nobody tried to suck your soul out, I'd say the day was going swimmingly." Lydia says with a teasing smirk. "But seriously. Let Phoebe help."

She gives the girl a nod and stays put watching in curiosity. She's never seen Phoebe at work before.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Fast mage," John replies with a third option. He tips back that flask, polishing off the contents and tucking it away in a pocket before pushing himself to his feet. He's not bearing much weight on that leg, being shot *hurt* even if he's just a little shot.

    "No, she poisoned him," is the answer to that last bit.

    "They're takin' it serious this time, or so they said, on their way there now. Imagine she'll be gone though," Chas mentions as he steps back into the room.

    "Oh, no, she'll be there," John replies vaguely. There's a dangerous, angry edge to the words. She's probably not liking what he did to keep her there. He pulls an envelope *thick* with cash from another pocket in that coat of many pockets and tosses it at Chas. Seems he did get paid before he was shot at least.

    He tries to push his way past Phoebe with a muttered, "You're not just some on call glowing ... emergency room. It's fine, I heal faster than most. Just get me a bloody drink."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Wasn't expecting that one --" Phoebe admits quietly, thinking a moment before her eyebrows rose up. "With what? Household? Mundane? Magical? Specialized?" she pauses amoment "... ah... some of my friends have relatives or work in crime scene investigation themselves." she explains to Lydia. John and Chas are probably well aware of the quirks she has for asking so many questions-- and then John pushes past her. She notably does not touch the cash. Bar cash was one thing -- gig cash was something else.

    "-- no, I'm not an emergency room, yes technically on call, and glowing, and --"

    She raises her hands in frustration to John's back, tilts her head back and breathes out a huff of breath so that she does not sound too peeved. "I want to help where I can that's not scrubbing toilets and scraping gum, sometimes! Besides, you're bleeding over the floor that I mopped this afternoon!" she protests, following him out of the room. She looks to Lydia and states: "Like I said. PreMed seemed a good idea."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia just shakes her head at John. For all his faults he really does seem to care for Phoebe, so that's at least one redeeming quality about him. "Quit complaining, John, and let her help. Some of us like doing that kind of thing otherwise we feel useless." She knows this from experience. That's why she's going on field ops now with the Brotherhood, because she just can't stand being left behind and just fretting about how useless she feels.

She nods to Phoebe. "No, I get it. It's a good choice. Something you should explore further if your life ever settles down enough to where you can."

John Constantine has posed:
    Chas snatches the envelope out of the air and opens it. He lets out a low whistle before, "John, there's like three times the five grand agreed upon in here."

    "Aye, well, what's she gonna do? Tell the police that the exorcist she hired to get rid of the ghost of the husband she *murdered* robbed her blind?" When he slides onto his usual stool, his face goes a little pale, just a little. "Bloody fucking *hell*," gets muttered under his breath. That little bit shot is just in the right spot that it makes sitting on his Pauper's Throne a lot bit uncomfortable.

    "Fine," he spits out in Phoebe's direction, but he follows it with, "This *one* time," and a jabshake of his finger in her direction.

    "Where's my bloody..."

    Before he gets the rest of that out, Chas settles a glass and a half full bottle in front of him. "...your asshole's showing again, mate."

    "Her cousin's a real piece of work that tried to slit my throat when I was sixteen. Now it seems like she wants Phoebe as some sort of battery or the like," he spills in Lydia's direction, sense it seems she was asking before according to Phoebe. "...don't worry, she'll be a dead piece of work soon enough."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives the 'yeah, uhuh, this one time' expression back to Lydia, and she goes to the stool directly next to John, hops over and onto it. She stretches out her hands, and puts one hand on Johns shoulder, the other on his side to form the circuit. She closes her eyes as she lets a breath out, and pulls on those Heals, her power meandering its way along his nerves first to resolve the pain of sitting down.

    "You told me you crossed paths, not that she tried to kill you." Phoebe states, her nose wrinkles a little bit, but she shakes off the thought. Wouldn't do to hit John with a bunch of Holy and Light rather than just Healing.

    "Mickey Rogers, the guy that had the seizure at the artifact display in Gotham, he's the one who funded the kidnapping and 'owned' the Moonstone Cult. He arranged for me to be kept drugged and in a fake rock so my ambient healing could be used by the highest bidder." Phoebe states. "... which is why he triggered a panic attack. He's supposed to be in prison waiting on charges like 'transferring a minor across state lines'."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia follows John and Phoebe back to the bar, a tentacle sneaking out to grab her Manhattan from the booth where she and Phoebe were sitting at. "As much as I don't condone killing," she says, taking a stool for herself and taking a sip of her drink, "I don't think I'd shed any tears should she pass. In a violent manner."

She nods to Phoebe. "That explains a few things," she says. "Do you know what his status is now? Shouldn't he have some kind of restraining order that keeps him away from you? He should be back in jail by now."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Great, then we'll have a two dead cu..." John slants those faded denim blues in Lydia's direction and then rolls them heavenward. He mutters something about sensitive Americans under his breath and amends, "...one dead fuckin' asshole and one dead *mother*fuckin' bitch."

    Lydia's belief in the system has him barking out a laugh. "Luv, the bloke funded a kidnapping, ran a cult of batshit crazies that probably donated their life savings to him AND he was sellin' a little girl's healin' for profit? Money... it talks its way out of legal technicalities faster than I talk my way between a stranger's bed sheets."

    "*John*", low but with meaning 'don't be an *ass*', from Chas. He straightens from where he was bent over putting that money away in a safe that appears to have no lock, yet pity the unauthorized fool that tries to open that thing.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I know exactly what word you were about to use." Phoebe states to John, her eyes pressing a little tighter shut.

    "And it's Gotham. One of my friends who has access to their legal paperwork is trying to figure out how he got out. Best they can figure at the moment is error in paperwork processing, but he's not discounting magic at this time."

    Phoebe breathes out. "He ran a newspaper. He tried to blame my house burning down on my friendship with the Amazons. I can tell you with absolute fu...freaking certainty that he is not an upstanding citizen of the city." she mutters. John would be feeling pretty good; she's pulling back hard on the Holy Power and the Light and focusing on just the healing. So less Grayhound Bus, more maybe smart car hit him.