8148/Birthright: Separation and Protection

Birthright: Separation and Protection
Date of Scene:	06 October 2021
Location:	Laughing Magician / A Gotham Carriage House
Synopsis:	John Constantine is asked by his student, pursued by a powerful necromancer, to ward her adoptive mother's home. Their journey to Gotham to ward and protect Caroline Beacon brings truths that Phoebe was not ready for to light. In the aftermath, Chas affirms that although John doesn't show affection, he is both proud of Phoebe's progress and trusts her to watch his back on their 'trips'.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, John Constantine

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It all started, the night before, with Phoebe coming down before John left for the night after his usual nightcap. She sat a bottle of potent alcohol in front of him, with a grayish-purplish tint to it. Everclear. Infused with a lot of lavender. It might even kick on John's wards as she brings the bottle in from where she'd been hiding it.

    "I need a favor." she had stated, trying to sound confident. "This is the last bottle I have of my home-made lavender 'extract', grown from lavender planted by my dad and tended to with my healing and wellness powers over several years. If she's coming after me, like we think she is... I need to protect my mom, too. Will you ward my mom's place? ... or teach me how?" she had asked, her dark eyes had looked to John with pleading.

John Constantine has posed:
    At that point, John had his elbow resting on the bar and his chin resting in his hand. in his other hand, he's twirling his Zippo around between his index finger and thumb. His trench coat is off and laying on the bar, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, tie loosened. Most of the little round scars on his arms are faint, not quite as faint as the thin lines travelling up both of them, but still faint.

    However, they might explain why, when he jolts to alertness from wherever he'd been in his head, that his first act is to push those sleeves back down and button them at his wrists.

    Faded denim blues focus on the bottle first and then on Phoebe. "Give that to Chas, lavender makes me sneeze."

    It's not as if he doesn't know that Chas will *refuse* to take it.

    There's no fanfare, no 'but of course I will dear', it's just John standing from his bar stool, snatching his coat after shoving the Zippo into his pant's pocket and asking, "Now? Isn't it a wee bit late?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe puts the bottle on the counter, and as John grabs his coat up she looks a little taken aback.
    "N-no. Not right now. I mean, it's late. I just had to ask before I lost my nerve." Phoebe admits sheepishly. "My mom would probably be really, really mad if we showed up this late--" Phoebe had commented.

    Besides, it was dark, and Phoebe knew what the darkness meant in Gotham. It meant Bats.

    Which lead to late afternoon, and Phoebe stepping onto the sidewalk outside the new carriage house.

    It was purchased through a holding of Myrmidon Security, its initial payments made from a secure holding fund and then the rest from Phoebe's accidental earnings at Papa Midnite's request for a certain mask. It was a nice, very new construction, living space over a two-bay garage with a little back yard that had been patio'd over so there's not a lick of grass or garden to tend. The flowers hanging off the little balcony were already sun-faded, fake, pink petunias -- strictly for show.

    Phoebe was wearing her black sweatshirt and a white tee beneath it, her hair put back in braids, nicer jeans, and she had her own backpack slung over her shoulder, and unlike her usual state of dress, she was wearing a pair of glasses with blue plastic frames. She seems nervous.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's pretty much already doesn't like this woman. His mind on that's been made up for awhile. Where Phoebe seems nervous, he just seems irritated, but not *at* Phoebe. Without any pomp, circumstance or words even, he walks right on up to the door and reaches out and knocks, insistently.

    "I'll be on my best behavior," he mutters. It's a lie, or at the very least likely a promise John knows he can't keep. He has a hard time with 'best behavior' around people he *likes*.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'd appreciate it." Phoebe replies, "... Chas kinda left a bad impression while the world was ending."

    There's no answer for a little while, and then a soft 'stomp' sound. The door unlatches, and the electric deadbolt retracts before the door opens up, and Caroline Beacon herself opens the door and looks... surprised.

    "/Phoebe/." she not-quite-hisses. She blinks a moment and then lookst to John, and then back to Phoebe expectantly.

    "Hi mom -- sorry I didn't call ahead." Phoebe meekly states, and it's clear by every ounce of her body language that this is a severely uncomfortable meeting. "Can we come in?"

    "... I guess so." Caroline replies, and she holds the door open. "What's going on? Is this a police officer? Who is this man?" she asks, stepping back, and then her eyes narrow. "This isn't one of the men you're living with, is it?"

    "Mom, John. John? My mom, Caroline."

John Constantine has posed:
    The smile John offers isn't much of one, it's more of a tight lipped, twisted little near sneer, but even that seems like it might hurt. "Caroline." He tries really hard not to make the name sound clipped and laced with annoyance. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and rocks back on his heels a little bit.

    Right before he breezes on past Mrs. Beacon like he owns the place. Into the living room first. He spins in a circle, slow, just getting a lay of the land. Calculations flicker through his head, best way to utilize the space, where what needs to go, how much, if any bloodwork should be done.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... this *is* the other guy isn't it? Some sort of..." Carrie eyeballs John with suspicion, as if he's casing the joint. Maybe he is. Phoebe moves to intercept.

    "Mom, John's been helping to protect me, he's been teaching me, and he's a Good Man." Phoebe states, and then looks over her shoulder at John, and then back to her mom.

    "The other night, someone tried to hurt my friends. I asked John to... set up a security system." she trails off a moment "... kinda. Wards. It's weird to talk about." she states, and then Carrie -- still moving slightly stiffly since she's not had the benefit of Phoebe's help healing, pushes past Phoebe, and goes to John.

    "I don't know *what* your deal is, and *what* your big friend's deal is, but this has gone on long enough, hasn't it? Tricking Phoebe into thinking she has magic powers. What sort of sick game is this? It's bad enough she was camping out in some college dorm livingroom but this is a new level of /skeeze/." she states. "And even if it IS magic powers, then it's possession. And I've already gotten the number of an exorcist from the priest at our church.

    ". . . Father Duncan knows an exorcist?" Phoebe sounds surprised.

John Constantine has posed:
    John turns to face them and make himself part of the conversation. "Good bloke, Father Duncan, could stand to lay off the sauce a little," he adds as his two cents. Best behavior, it seems, is not going to happen.

    He turns back to the rest of the room and mentions, "I need to move that picture. I can put it back up when I'm finished though." With a little gesture of one hand, he floats that picture right on off the wall to gently rest it on the floor. He's such an *asshole*.

    "What was that you were saying about magic powers, luv?" he asks of Phoebe's mother. "...and possession? Go on then, call the good Father, aye?"

    "I should start on this wall," he murmurs to himself before he heads to 'that wall' the one that faces the West and places his hand on it, palm flat. "... aye, this one."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Laugh it up, buddy, if you don't vacate the premesis in fifteen minutes--"

    "Mom--"

    "-- and leave Phoebe alone --"

    /"Mom/..."

    Carrie does not seem to notice the picture floated off. She's gotten her phone out. "No need -- he already gave me the number. I'll call up the right guy and you can just leave. Before I call the /police/." Because calling the police department, in Gotham, was such a threat.
    "Phoebe, go to your room. And for God's sake, straighten your hair. You look like a hoodrat!" Carrie complains, and Phoebe gives an affronted expression as her mom dials the number that the good Father Duncan gave her, and brings her phone to her ear. "We're going to get you fixed, Phoebe, even if you have to go inpatient again-"

    "-/Mom/!" Phoebe protests "If you would just *listen*--"

John Constantine has posed:
    John just stands there like he's studying that wall intently, rocking back and forth on his heels a bit, hands shoved in his pockets now, lower lip caught at the left edge between his teeth.

    His pocket suddenly starts pelting out the Dropkick Murphy's 'Amazing Grace'. Or, his phone does.

    "Excuse me while I take this, aye?" He slips his phone out, slides up to answer and speaks into it. "John Constantine, exorcist and demonologist, how may I help you?" Deadpan and straight-faced as can be. He slips his other hand back out of his pocket to run it along that wall again.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It takes every ounce of restraint in Phoebe's body to not just... laugh. Her eyes go wide, and she brings her hands up to her mouth -- mostly because the idea of John and Father Duncan knowing one another, in this world, was hilarious. The fact that Father Duncan, who would shorten mass by fifteen minutes so he could make the football game, would recommend John Constantine was *even better*.

    "... no." Carrie states, and she takes a deep breath. "Some sort of... sick... hack." she decides, and she pulls up a different number. Caroline Beacon always had a plan, and she tries a different number.

    "Yes, Sister. I know this is a bit of a stretch, but if you could, please connect me to someone who knows about exorcisms. My daughter is very sick. Yes, thank you for connecting me."

    Caroline watches John like a hawk.

    "Phoebe, go to your room. You're not leaving until I get this man out and get a hold of your doctor." she states sternly.

    Phoebe presses her lips a moment. "Need a hand with anything, John?"

John Constantine has posed:
    On the other end of the phone, the Good Sister replies, "One moment, yes that would be Mr. Constantine, John Constantine."

    ...and John's phone, still in his hand, pelts out the same song and again, John answers it with, "John Constantine, exorcist and demonologist, how may I help you?"

    Again his tone is deadpan, his face as straight as an arrow, other than... that little raise to his eyebrows.

    He covers the mouthpiece of the phone as if it really matters and tells Phoebe, "No, I got it, luv... should only take about an hour once I get started, maybe two."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe actually does laugh at the second ring, just one soft 'haaa' sound before she covers her mouth, her eyes actually tearing up a little bit.

    Carrie stops and just stares, and then she points at Phoebe. "This. This is all your fault." she states, "Running around after dark with those college boys, hanging out with that awful woman and hitting things with sticks. God, why couldn't you have been *normal* and just be a good girl?" Caroline asks, and this seems to take Phoebe aback further.

    "Mom I-- I just want to help. So you don't get hurt again!"

    "And you did *so* well last time, showing up at the fire. And now I find out you've emancipated yourself to live with two old men. What do you *think* that looks like to people on the outside? But no, you don't think about how things look to others. You just think about yourself. Charles should have left you with CPS."

John Constantine has posed:
    What John *wants* to say is, 'Bloody Hell, just shut your vile pie hole, you evil *witch*'. Really, it's written all over his face. Instead, however, he goes with the much better, "Just shuddup. For *some* reason, this girl still thinks you're worthy of her love, so I'm going to paint stuff on your walls that will keep Bad Shit from getting in here. You won't be able to see it when I'm done. You can be here while I do it or not..."

    He shoots a look in Phoebe's direction. It's kind of apologetic, but not really. It's more 'oh-well' and a shrug up to his cheeks. "But if you stay, I'm really going to need to insist that you *shuddup*." He makes a little motion like he's zipping his own lips, tucks his thumb into his fist, blows into that fist and then aims an outstretched palm in Caroline's direction.

    Who will, rather suddenly, find herself unable to speak.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Caroline Beacon was about to say something further, and she opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She looks bewildered. She tries to talk more, and then looks alarmed.

    And then has the gall to shoot Phoebe an *injured* expression. Phoebe who looks like someone's twisting a knife in her back.

    Going around the room, John would see there's no sign of Phoebe here, other than a reproduced shadow-box. showing the top of Phoebe's head and the crying expression of Caroline Beacon. Probably at Charles Beacon's funeral and dedication of the Cenotaph with his name on it. Otherwise it's pictures of Caroline and Charles. Happy, smiling faces. There's one picture of Phoebe, with straightened hair, looking uncomfortable at a school photographer, wearing a sweatervest and a long sleeved white shirt. It's in the back behind other family emembers.

    "C'mon Mom, I'll make you some coffee." Phoebe states, and she draws Caroline to the kitchen.

    It's a very low, very one-sided conversation that follows. A lot of yes and no questions, and Phoebe is keeping her voice low to not intrude on John's concentration.

John Constantine has posed:
    John moves the picture of Phoebe to the front and calls out, "This picture needs to stay here for this to work." He vanishes for just a moment, into the House of Mystery and returns with a large leather duffel. Then he sets to work.

    Watching him, to anyone in the know, would be nothing short of mesmerizing. The work he's doing here is nothing compared to what he's put into the Laughing Magician and the connected rooms, but it's still *impressive*.

    One thing flows into the next and into the next and into the next, the blending of so many different cultures, styles and types of magic is seamless. Most of the work is done with spelled paints from the bag, all of it vanishes as soon as John sets his will to it. Some of it, however, is done with his own blood. That's the bit that will alert him if trouble crosses the threshold here and what the trouble might be.

    ...and he sheds *a lot* of it, enough that he's a little pale by the end. All in all, it takes nearly two hours from start to finish, with trips to extend the warding to every room in the home. It's in the bedroom that he adds his little bit of vengeance for Phoebe.

    Whenever Caroline Beacon puts on an article of clothing in that room, it'll feel about half a size too snug; always leaving her wondering when she gained that few extra pounds. That bit makes him smile.

    When he's finished and everything's cleaned up, he reverses that spell but holds up a warning hand in Caroline's direction that clearly says... 'Don't. Just. Fucking. Don't.'

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe, occasionally, has to come up for air. She does watch. She offers John coffee. She sees the letting, and of course offers to help with reagents -- she had questioned, and probably had been shushed away to let him work. It was fascinating to watch him work, some wards and sigils she recognized, but most was different. It was like Art.

    By the end of it, the two women stand there, and it's clear that there is some shaking, angry rage from Caroline as she seethes in John's direction. Phoebe just looks... resigned. Not quite sad about her face, but she definitely looks like it wasn't a happy visit home.

    She ducks back into a different room, and she comes out with a statue in the shape of a spotted dog, a beat-up leather collar with a collection of tags, and a wallet-sized picture of a smiling, blond man who definitely looks like he would be on a calendar snuggling kittens for charity.

    "What he's done will protect you from being hurt again on my behalf." she states, holding the dalmatian statue under her arm.

    "If you have any further questions, you have his number."

    And Phoebe wraps that leather collar twice around her wrist, securing it in place as she tucks the leftover bit under itself, and turns to make an exit.

John Constantine has posed:
    "*Twatwaffle*", John mutters under his breath before giving Mrs. Beacon a mock(ing) salute made with just his middle finger to his forehead. One his way out the door, he snaps his fingers and the warding he just completed all flashes brightly just once before fading out again. Security system in place.

    "Should you ever decided to exorcise the bitch demon living in *you*, do feel free to use that number," he tosses over his shoulder before following Phoebe on out the door. He just can't help himself.

    "My dad was a wanker," he tells the girl without offering anything else on the matter. He does, however, rub at his left forearm when he sets the bag down for just a moment in order to light up a Silk Cut. The former, and probably the latter, more subconscious than anything else.

    Once the Silk's lit and the bag picked back up, he opens the portal to the House of Mystery and has it deposit them both back at the Laughing Magician.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "You are a horrible, awful man and I hope you burn." replies the woman with third degree burns in various states of healing as she glowers at John, and then the door is slammed shut, locked, and Phoebe leaves the premesis for the last time. She swallows the thick knot in her throat, and she breathes out, keeping her head high.

    Her hands are held at her sides, the dog statue under her arm still as she trembles.

    "I'd say she's a cunt, but she apparently lacks the depth and warmth." Phoebe states cooly, stretching her left hand out as she takes a deep breath, catching the flicker of light of the silk, and she preceeds John into the portal, and back to the Laughing Magician.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Been there, done that luv, multiple times, in Hell even!" John calls back, obviously for the shock value. "But they couldn't decide who gets to keep me, so they sent me back topside!"

    What an *asshole*.

    "It applies, if someone's into necrophilia," John mutters to Phoebe.

    Once back, he finds his spot on that Pauper's Throne and tosses back more than a few doubles in a record amount of time. Breakfast of Champions.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe just makes a *face* at that mutter, and looks up to John with an expression that reads as 'trying not to think it's funny it's completely horrible!', but she shakes her head a moment, and just lets her hand brush against the forearm of his jacket before they step in properly to the Laughing Magician.

    Phoebe swings herself up onto one of the stools, and takes a deep breath, fiddling with the leather strap that's now around her left wrist. "That went smoother than I expected it to." she states, setting the dog statue on the counter, and then resting her head in her hands.

John Constantine has posed:
    John? He's just mentally picturing the woman buying fifty scales in a year because none of them are registering the weight she has to be gaining for her clothes to all feel so tight, even when she buys bigger sizes.

    He's also spending a bit more time rubbing absently at his arms, first the left, the the right. Bitch Mom put his mind on Wanker Dad pretty hard core.

    "Only because I forced her to shuddup before I lost my temper," he points out.

    Chas hasn't said a word since their return, he just watched John snag his bottle and his glass and ashtray and set up 'shop' on that stool. When he finally speaks, it's to Phoebe, "You two okay?" Because he *knows* what that arm rubbing means; why John does it... it's only common when Wanker Dad memories are brought out of the closets in his mind.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Bonding experience." Phoebe recounts quietly, as if that should explain it -- but it's Chas. Of course she'll give further information: "Caroline let me know that she never actually wanted a child and that I mildly ruined her life by existing before being weird." She doesn't bring her head up from where her palms were pressed against her eyes. "And she rightly blames me for the burns, because I couldn't get to her in time to fix it. But now the house is paid for. And John warded it. So she's safe."

    She takes a deep breath, her fingers pressing against her forehead until the skin begins to bruise. "She's safe, and that's what really matters in the end."

    So I can't hurt her anymore.

John Constantine has posed:
    John stands, snatches the bottle off the table and heads for the front door. His head's pretty much swimming with all the things he wants to say, some reassuring and comforting and others well, just plain nasty - all of the latter in regards to Caroline Beacon.

    Chas holds up a finger to Phoebe, 'just a second, stay right there', before he's over the bar and in front of his best mate with speed one might think impossible from such a big man. "No," firm but gentle at the same time. "You," he pokes a finger into John's chest. "Go. Home. Now." ...home to Paul.

    John blows out a breath and snaps, "Yes, Daddy..." Because it's John and he can't let it go without some sort of snark. In the end, he just mutters the words to open a portal back to the House of Mystery and steps through it though, so.

    Chas breathes out a sigh of relief, but is already addressing Phoebe even on the way back to the bar. "You know John's mum died giving birth to him," his tone's casual enough, but sad. "His dad blamed him for her death. Do you think that was his fault?" See where he's going with this Phoebe?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... this is different, Chas." Phoebe replies quietly, and she feels very small. "I'm not the one who lit the fire, but I could have healed her. Impulse brought her out of the burning building. Wonder Girl rescued my dog. I could have healed her, but it would mean telling the whole world what I was, I could have chosen to run up to that ambulence and fix her... or at least get her close before I passed out."

    Phoebe looks up to Chas quietly as she lifts her face. "... and I wasn't ready for it. For her to know. I would have to go public. A superpowered healer seen with Impulse and Wonder Girl and Red Arrow, who Wonderwoman and the Bats showed up to investigate the burned-out hole. She wanted a normal girl. When she saw what I could do... it hurt her because suddenly it wasn't about her. It was about me, and she just... couldn't handle it. She never wanted me. She never wanted kids." she states. "John didn't have the choice."

    Phoebe's face is forced neutral. "... so yeah. I love her more than she ever cared for me. And that's... that's okay."

John Constantine has posed:
    "It isn't different, you're carrying around guilt for something you shouldn't. You can't be blamed for the fire, you can't be blamed for how society would have reacted had you gone public, none of it's your fault." Chas pours himself a drink and fixes up a sugary sweet Shirley Temple for Phoebe. "...and she shouldn't be blaming you."

    He sips from his drink before, "That girl being turned to a vampire? Was that John's fault? You going to the Underworld to try and save him because he *chose* to go there himself, was that his fault?"

    His voice lowers to barely a whisper, "Astra... he made a choice to try and help and it backfired, should we blame him? Should he blame himself? Don't do this, kid, don't carry guilt that isn't yours. Look what it's done to him."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Shirley Temple. Fancy kid's drink. She gives a soft sound of a laugh as she accepts the bright pinkish-red drink, and she looks to Chas, watching him a moment, and she takes a deep breath. She's trying so hard not to cry. Just to be strong, to not care or let it affect her or show. She's trying to be John.

    And she turns the drink a moment, looking at its fizzy, sugary sweet red depths.

    "I'm trying to let it go, but all I want to do is hurt right now. I thought..." she presses her lips together. She lets the thought fade out.

    "She spoke to our family priest about setting me up for an exorcism." she sips the drink.

    "... John's phone rang when she called the number."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Her loss, our gain," Chas murmurs, likely in response to the thought that faded out. "I love him, I do. I love that asshole so much." And he's secure enough in his masculinity to admit it. "...but don't be him, Phoebe. He's strong, stubborn, gets it done no matter *what*, but he's fuckin' sad, kid. I can count the times I see him genuinely smile in a week on one hand with fingers left over. It's okay to hurt for a bit, but don't hold on to it."

    He really can't help but to laugh at that last bit though, a deep laugh, from the gut. "...of course it did, she'd probably get his number if she worked her way all the way up to the Vatican. Or if she called the local Mosque. They may not like him, but they all know he's the best bet if they need to pull a nasty demon or spirit out of someone."

    He swirls his glass a little before taking another sip from it. "Learn from John, Phoebe, but don't aspire to be him. Because John Constantine? He's a miserable son of a bitch that doesn't know how to be any other way but miserable, that doesn't believe he *deserves* to be anything other than miserable."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Yeah. I never thought of Father Duncan knowing John. That's just... that's weird." Phoebe admits quietly, and she watches Chas quietly. "I don't aspire to be John Constantine... but... I wouldn't mind making him proud if I become pretty skilled in a couple areas. Maybe give him a day off. Maybe a vacation." she sips. "Can you picture him in swim trunks and flip-flops? With you know -- sunblock all over. He's paaaale." Phoebe stretches out the word, trying to cover her own hurt with a little poke at John's pallor, and then she just settles into a little smile.

    "... I just want to be Someone, Chas, who people know I can help."

John Constantine has posed:
    "He'd burst into flames even with the sunblock."

    "He's proud of you, Phoebe. He just doesn't know how to show or express *that* either," Chas points out quietly. "He's broken, kiddo, fundamentally broken. If he wasn't proud, he wouldn't be taking you *anywhere* near any of his work. He was never shown affection as a child, by *anyone*. His old man beat him and burned him with cigarettes while calling him a murderer. He never learned how to express anything positive and doesn't believe he deserves to have anyone express those things *to* him. But don't ever doubt that he loves you and is proud of you."

    Chas stares down into what's left of his drink and then tosses it right down the sink. He's not a day drinker and a glance to the empty stool at the end of the bar reminds him why he doesn't want to become one.

    "...and you are Someone and you'll be Someone more, eventually, you're not even eighteen yet, give yourself time."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe is quiet. Her own dad had been awesome -- all of them so far, are. Well. Two out of three. Her shoulders draw up, and at that last part -- don't ever doubt that he loves you -- she feels that knot in her throat again. And she gives a smile, looking over to Chas.

    Her lips curl into a smile. "I just hope that he knows that I'd choose him every time." Phoebe gives a small smile, and a deep breath as she looks to the leather strap on her wrist.

    "Hey, some of my friends are meeting at the Hanging Tree in Gotham for a movie night -- is it okay if I catch the hyperloop and meet them? It's past curfew, so I want to check, first, with the Responsible adult." she jokes.

John Constantine has posed:
    Chas digs around in his pocket and comes out with a small, smooth stone. It's nothing fancy or expensive, just a piece of hematite. "Take this, it'll let John pinpoint your exact location if there's a need for it, probably even if you're not on this plane." He sets the stone on the bar between the two of them.

    "I'm sure he knows it and I'm sure he doesn't believe he deserves it," he adds in regards to the other bit. "Just... try not to... just try to remember that whenever he drags you along with him to deal with something, it's because he *is* proud and he trusts you to have his back in that situation and whenever he sidelines you it's because he loves you and it's something he either doesn't think you're ready for yet or it's something he just doesn't want you to see because he loves you. Broken, fundamentally broken, but he's a good man with a good heart. He's an asshole, but he's our asshole, huh?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe takes the stone. She rolls it over in her palm a moment, and then gives a nod, sliding it into her pocket. "No problem. I'll take it with me just in case." Phoebe replies, "Impulse is going to be there, so I'll have a ride home when the thing's done." she states to Chas, "So it shouldn't be too late past curfew."

    And then Chas goes on the long draw. She smiles a little. She takes a deep breath, and she lets it out.

    "I figured that out at the Vampire nest. He took me with him. He let me make a judgement call on a course of action, and he let me stay until he was ready to go. And I appreciated it, and I thanked him, 'cause I know he does. And yep. He's an jerk." she substitutes out the word, because at the moment, she's not feeling angry "... but he's our jerk."

    And she clinks Chas's glass.