8272/Turning a Kitten into a Cat.

Turning a Kitten into a Cat.
Date of Scene:	16 October 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	When one of Nettie's kittens comes into the bar whining about her helplessness and feelings of inadequacies, she gets a crash course in magic and 'buck up buttercup' from John. Mairin also manages to gain Nettie's ire. Little kitten to cat, it might take awhile, but hopefully she'll get there.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Mairin Moran, Nettie Crowe, Jonathan Sims

---

John Constantine has posed:
    It's early on a Saturday, just before the lunch crowd comes straggling in. Can't be for the food, has to be the ambiance or the booze served with the meal - the food here sucks, it's no secret. A table or two is all that's occupied outside of that one bar stool no one else will sit upon; John's Pauper's Throne and the space behind the bar taken up by Chas Chandler.

    To look at John, one might be hard pressed to tell that he spent the entire night 'doing things'. A trip to Arkansas to try to get more information after a ping to his phone reported a thinning happened there and an exorcism in Africa, all well before dawn. He looks tired, but maybe not as exhausted as he should be?

    "How'd Africa go?" Chas asks while stocking supplies for the day.

    "Without a hitch, mate," John replies, rare answer these days. A cloud of familiar cigarette smoke clings to him from the Silk dangling between his lips. His scotch glass is half empty because he's generally not a half full kinda guy and the bottle next to his elbow waits to refill the glass when it's finally really empty.

    The jukebox plays its typical fair of classic rock and punk, but now there's the very occasional interlude of something pop or soft rock from the 70s, odd that.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin walks into The Laughing Magician, a rather vacant expression on her face. She nods absent greetings to anyone she might know, but heads straight to the bar to sit carefully down, hr hands spalyed on the countertop as she stares down at them.

John Constantine has posed:
    Was that a brief eyeroll toward the Heavens, a silent 'bloody Hell' of a thing? Why yes, yes it was. "There a problem, Kitten?" John asks of Mairin when she settles down looking all... morose or whatever that might be.

    "John..." BE NICE, the later is implied when Chas speaks his best mate's name.

    It's returned with a 'what?!' expression, eyebrows raised, nose wrinkled slightly. John thought he *was* being nice. He plucks that cigarette from between his lips to hold it with his left hand while he downs that half a glass of scotch with his right, something's screaming he might need it.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    The 'kitten' looks up at John, and for a brief second there's a look of anger bordering on hatred there. But it flickers out as soon as it comes, to be replaced by a deep weariness. "I... I don't know," she answers honestly. She looks down at her hands... then back up to John. "Do you really care?" she asks. And it's not rhetorical, or acusatory. It's an actual, genuine, scincere question. Because, anymore, she's really not sure who does.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Wouldn't have asked if I didn't," John drolls in return and it's the simple, honest truth of it. He wouldn't have wasted the energy of forming words or the breath they took to form if he didn't want an honest answer.

    Chas, he looks genuinely concerned as well and asks, "You need a drink, kid?" His tone gentle as opposed to that of his friend.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    "I don't drink," Mairin auto-replies, her mind not even really considering the question. She shifts in the stool, facing John more directly. "I want to learn magic. I want it..." she looks for the word. "Deeply. I want to make the world a better place. And I want to make Nettie proud. But I can't do anything right now. I hate feeling helpless, and dependant on everyone else. And I hate being eminded of it every time someone sees me. You, Nettie, Ty, everyone just sees me as this poor little helpless thing who can't possibly take care of herself." Her voice gains firmnes and conviction as she speaks, her hands pressing harder into the counter.

    "But, what makes it worse, is that you're right. You're all right. I can't do anything. I can't even protect myself. I could make one mistake, just one, without even knowing it, and..." She stops, swollows, and her focus shifts over John's shoulder."

John Constantine has posed:
    John refills his scotch, puts his Silk back between his lips and reaches up to scrub at his face with his free hands. Nggggggg. Kittens. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. There is stuff and things that he's supposed to say here. "I couldn't always defend myself properly, you know." He thinks that's a right thing? But ... well, he was like fifteen when he summoned his first demon.

    "But... that doesn't mean that you're *helpless*," he points out. "A person can always help themselves, even if, in the moment, running away is the way to do so." He turns tired, bloodshot, denim blues directly toward Mairin for the first time. "So what is you do, exactly, luv? Besides ... robot kittens." he has a *really* difficult time keep a straight face there, but he manages.

    Chas is watching, listening and he serves up a sprite with a cherry and some sugary sweet grenadine. "On the house, kid."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin pishes softly. "I know... run away like a little bunny." she gives Chas a weak smile and takes a drink with hands that rattle the ice in the glass. In fact she has to hold it with both hands to get it to stop.

    "I am a robotics engineer," she says flatly, her eyes not turning back to John. "With a PhD in Quantum Power Mechanics." She says it as if it is nothing special. Just.. you know... like being a trash man. "I just..." She sighs, looking into her drink that she's still holding with both hands. "I want Nettie to respect me. But, I mean, how can she? I'm not some magical prodigy. I wasn't born with it flowing through my veins. And I haven't had a hundred years to master it. You all.." She turns to John. "You all live up here.." she reaches her hand up over her head. "I'm just one of the bugs crawling around on the floor, dreaming of being something she isn't." She shrugs.

    "The eagle doesn't respect the rabbit."

John Constantine has posed:
    John lets out a heavy, put upon sigh, he can't help it. It's just in his nature. He slides off his stool, that cigarette still between his lips and motions a little 'up with you' thing with his hands as he says, "Okay, get up."

    He raises his hands just a little, out to his sides, palms forward. Almost instantly, one of them is engulfed in flames, the crackles with little flashes of lightning. "Looks easy, right?" he asks. "Well, it is... once you know the secrets of it." Fire and electricity both fade blink away.

    "Some people believe magic comes from here." He points to his head with his left hand. "Others, from here..." he points to his heart with his right. "The truth is that it's both. You have to find what's up here," he taps the side of his head. "...that comes easy for you. For you that's science. Can you picture in your head, how one might disrupt the atomic structure of a thing?"

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin gives her own put-upon sigh and stands, facing John. "Of course I can. And I know how to project my will, Nettie's been teaching me that. But that doesn't..." She shakes her head, "I don't want to learn to throw fireballs or shoot lightning. I'm not some high schooler with a D&D fetish." Anymore anyway...

John Constantine has posed:
    "Do you want to learn how to protect yourself or *not*?" John snips in return, his patience a little thin, but that's not uncommon. "Because, luv, every fuckin' one starts *somewhere* and fireballs and lightning bolts? They're a hell of a way to protect oneself. *I* still use them."

    He rolls his shoulders a little and says, "So, picture it in your head, pulling something apart on the atomic level. Really picture it, make it the only thing you see. It starts with the mind. Once you have the picture in your head, use your will, channel it, focus it and use *that* to turn it into something; into a tangible attack."

    He stands there, arms out slightly at his sides, as if he's inviting her to use him as target practice.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin frowns at John's snipe, and is about to retort with her own, but bites it back. Fine.. he wants her to shoot him...

    She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, using the technique Demona taught her to focus her qi, her will. After two calming breath's she opens her eyes and looks at John. Or rather, not so much at him, but just happening to be looking in his general direction, because what she's seeing is something else. The bodies of atoms, electrons, sub-atopic particles. All of the energy flowing between and around them. The forces of nature that she harnesses on a daily basis. And just what it takes to pull those forces apart. To dissassemble nature.

    And when that is set, she pulls her will up, and pushes it into that form. Not too hard... but not gently either. Firmly... like pushing a book off a shelf.

    She raises a hand to roughly waist height, and the crackle of pure destructive energy lances out of it. Not fire... not lighting. Just... entropy.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's mouth quirks into a little half smile. He doesn't want to discourage the kitten, so he doesn't 'block' her efforts, per se. What he does do, is draw his hands across himself, close his eyes and project an illusion, perfect in every way, real and solid, of himself... in front of himself.

    Mairin's first real, offensive spell will hit *that*, not the real John, but whatever it does to *that* is what it would have done to the real him.

    So, little Kitten, what is it that happens to the psuedo John Constantine?

Mairin Moran has posed:
    The image of John doesn't explode, or burn, or shriek. It is simply torn apart as the beam hits it. Bonds and forces torn asunder to release their attendant particles into the air of the bar. Flesh and blood, to dust... and dust to nothing...

    Mairin screams as the spell cuts off, a panicked, desperate sound that echoes as the cloud that used to be John, dissipates into... John?

    When the dust settles, she's standing there, on arm outstretched as if trying to call the spell back, blinking stupidly at John with panicked eyes.

    "What...?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Behind Mairin, the door to the Laughing Magician opens, and Nettie steps in, hand-rolled ciggy to her mouth, her colorless hair pulled into a messy bun and tucked under an black wool cap, vest over a black long-sleeved shirt, and patched-over jeans. She raises one hand, looking in medium concern at her student executing John with some very excellent energy control, and then she purses her lips, watching John be torn apart from existence -- though from her vantage point, she can see a second John behind the dissipating John.

    She blinks a moment, and then decides to be very quiet, bringing her finger to her lips.

John Constantine has posed:
    When the spell hits, the *real* John is staggered back a step or two by its effects. He tilts his head to one side and gives it a small shake, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He makes a little 'that stung' sound, but shakes it all off in a way that starts with a little shake of his wholeself and ends with a straightening of his trenchcoat.

    Silk Cut is still there, danging between his lips. "Now you can defend yourself, kitten," he comments, voice flat.

    "Really John?" Chas offers from behind the bar. Really JOHN? Teaching PUPS to pull apart things on the atomic level?

    Another 'what?!' look is tossed in Chas's direction and accompanied by, "She's old enough to bloody well drink and go to war in this fuckin' country..." So why not?!"

    Wouldn't it figure, John's perfectly content to stand there and not give Nettie away. Chas, however, clears his throat and is about to speak her name, feeling sorry for the poor kid more like than not. Can Nettie pull off her whatever... before he speaks?

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin just stares at John for a couple seconds. Probably still recovering from the shock of apparently killing someone, or maybe impressed with the smoothness of the illusion. Or maybe actually impressed with herself. But it doesn't last long.

    "That's it? That's your solution?" She takes a step toward him. "Teach me how to dissasemble people and call it a day? Do you think *that's* what I want? I want Nettie to re-spect me," she re-iterates. "You think that," she gestures to where the psuedo-John stood, "is going to gain her respect? I want to *help* people, not obliterate them."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Dunno, depending on the right person, oblittering them at an atomic level can be very helpful." Nettie comments, coming around the side of Mairin. "Chas! Lad, a gin and tonic if you please, extra lime slices!" Nettie calls out to the bartender with a smile, and then sits on a stool near John's pauper's throne. "There's more than one way along the paths, B-.. Mairin. Sometimes it's not a path you expect. Sometimes it's not the well-lit paths you expect... but I'd say with that you are further along the paths I thought."

    And then she gives just a smile to John. "NOt the one I would have figured I'd catch trying to put you in the ground to prove a point."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Bloody fucking *hell*. You come in here whining 'I can't defend myself, I'm so helpless, boofuckinghoo and now you're not and you *still* whine. Sod off," John quips before he slides back onto his stool. Cigarette plucked from his lips is replaced by glass being brought to them. For the moment, Mairin? Persona non Grata to one John Constantine.

    Even Chas isn't happy. Although he's more gentle with his 'non-happy'. "Might want to be a little more grateful, kid. He gave you the means, the building blocks... and a way to stay alive and keep others alive between the foundation and the rest of the building. He did what you asked and it's not something he does for just *anyone*."." His tone is only slightly scolding, like a disappointed dad.

    "Your Kitten is a twat," John offers to Nettie. "Take her and teach her proper litter box manners, one should not shite where one comes asking for help."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin just freezes, actual fear coming to her eyes for a second as Nettie walks calmly past. Then blinks at the verbal slap from both John and Chas. She deflates, her arm falling to her side, and just stands there processing everything for a minute.

    This wasn't how she'd hoped to meet Nettie again after their argument. But this is how it is. She takes a deep breath, and walks up to the two.

    "John," she starts. "I am sorry. That was rude of me. You did exactly what I asked you to, and you didn't have to. Maybe even shouldn't have..." she glances to Nettie. "Thank you. Trully."

    She turns to Nettie. "I... I'd like to talk, Nettie."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "/John/. She's coming from a completely different world into ours. I was five when I started to learn. You were what, twelve? Thirteen?" Nettie points out quietly to the cursting mage, and she just reaches up and pats on his shoulder.

    ".. but they're both right, Mairin. It's not everyone who gets a lesson like that from John Constantine just by walking into his bar. Most of the time, they're just shown the door, I wager." Nettie states, burroing John's ashtray unceremoniously to tap her cigarette into.

    "Are you leavin' my lessons for John's then?" she asks, in a carefully measured, neutral voice, though her inhuman eyes drifted to Mairin's face, searching the other woman's eyes. It may be uncomfortable for Mairin.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's nose scrunches up, his eyes widen a bit and he gives that little tilted shake of his head again. "Oh no, nuh-uh, she's *all yours*." He nips that idea in the bud right quick and straight away.

    "Aye, was rude. Don't listen to Nettie on that one, doesn't matter where you came from, you don't bite the hand that's given you what you've asked for. Tends to make one look like a sodden c-" America John, they hate that word here. "... bitch."

    This time Chas, while still not as harsh voiced as John, has to agree with, "He's not wrong..."

    "She might have been shown the door a little more violently after that, had she not been one of yours." He slides off the stool then, snagging up his bottle, his Silks and his beloved Zippo to start toward the back room. Takes him a little more than just an 'I'm sorry' to get past a slight such as that, takes time. He's still bristled.

    ...and it started off such a good day, for a change.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    "What?" Mairin blinks, a moment of utter confusion crossing her face. "No!" Ok, that was maybe said a little too fast and a little too emphaticly to be polite. As if the very idea of learning under John is a little gross. She gives a grimace at the continued, but justifiable tongue lashing and watches John go with obvious regret.

    "No," she repeats, a little more politely as she faces Nettie again. "I love your lessons. I just..." She takes a deep breath, as if calling up a speach she's been practicing in a mirror. "I want you to treat me as a student. Someone who is with you to learn... But someone who, just by virture of being your student, has earned a modicom of respect. I don't think that's asking too much. Like I said before. I'm not a pet, or a puppy, or a bunny. I already feel helpless and inadiquate and when you refer to me like that it just re-inforces the knowledge that I am. And when you speak to your friends about me as if I'm not there... making decisions on where I should live without even asking me my opinion..." She stops. She's getting off track. Reel it in. Deep breath. "I just want to be sure that, you understand where I'm coming from. I love being your apprentice. But I can't be taught by someone who thinks of me as something... low."
She takes a final.. deep breath. And waits.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Oh for the sakes of-- JOhn. Stay a while, Mairin an' I will hope off and head back to the Candle. I came to ask if you had any Scotts Thistle. I needed it for a particular tincture I'm trying to rebuild from the Book of Crowns, but for the life of me I can't recall where I put my jar of it." she gives a sniff, as if just mentioning it might bring back the memory, and thens he pauses, adn she turns back to Mairin.

    "... I forget. Teaching's become a bit of a... different thing today." Nettie states, and she gives a soft 'hm', bringing her thumb nail to her lips to nip at it a moment in thought.

    "You don't earn respect by being my student, Mairin. You earn respect by being a person. If I did not respect you, we would not be having a conversation right now. I would have charmed your memory of our meeting and sent you back to your lasers and science." Nettie admits cooly. "You have that... absolutely, positively amazing ability that you showed just then. And you weren't even surprised about its existence, or its ability to rip John to atomic particles. You also have a fabulously huge brain inside your head. A Pup, a Kitten, they're things that can grow up with fangs and claws. And Rabbits have been associated with witchcraft since my grandmother's grandmother's time. Tynan mentioned that... you might have..."

    And then Nettie actually blushes. Without alcohol in her. Without getting angry. She even rubs on her own shoulder a moment "May have taken the 'Bunny' thing as a bit of an insult. An' I apologize. To me, it was something I called my students in the late 1800's an' my group of nurses in the Great War. Because rabbits, Mairin. They're clever sorts of spirits when you choose one as your familiar, at least in my family tradition." she explains.

John Constantine has posed:
    John stops and turns. Chas freezes in place. Uh-oh. Nettie might notice it as well, the explosion about to happen. He did not miss the tone of that 'no'.

    "Listen here, *Kitten*. I wouldn't deem to take you on as my student anyway, because you *are* an ungrateful, whiny little *twat* even if Nettie is too *nice* to say so. So that's not even a question, but if *I* did, you would be bloody well lucky to have it happen." It's not even so much that he believes that himself as it is... he's not going to be *insulted* in his own bar by a ... kitten.

    "Respect is a thing *earned* and you've yet to show me a bloody fucking thing about you that earns *mine*. So, I can see why Nettie might have been reluctant to offer hers." Even if she wasn't really, Nettie' spiel doesn't much matter at the moment, he's *pissed*.

    To Nettie, "Get her out of my bar before I permanently remove her whiny little mouth..." Or potentially make every thing she says come out sounding like a mewling kitten.

    Deciding that, no, he's not going to be driven from *his* stool by a kitten, he turns back and ... returns to it.

    "In the backroom, second shelf from the bottom, on the left," he tells Nettie. Scotts Thistle that is. But will she do it? Walk into that room and leave poor Mairin all alone out here with *John*.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin listens, and her dmeanor shifts visibly. A deep seated tension slowly ebbing out of it. She's about to take a seat next to Nettie but pauses at John's outburst. She looks up at him, unflinching, and takes it. Because she knows, on at least some level, he's absolutely right.

    But she's started this and she's not going to just let him chase her out before she's done. So she takes a seat next to Nettie.

    "I understand, Nettie. I... I didn't think you really *meant* it as an insult. I just..." She looks in Nettie's eyes. "I need you to understand--and I was trying to tell you the other night before John came in--that I.. I feel inadiquate. I look around at you and everyone else in your circle and you're all..." she looks down at her hands. "Well you're increadible." She sighs. "And I already feel like an outsider. Like I don't even belong here, as your apprentice. I'm the one that everyone has to save. The one for everyone to pity. And I hate that. I.." She looks up at Nettie again. "I want to feel like you have my back. Not just if my life is in danger. But to tell everyone I belong here."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "When you feel like you have the right to belong here, Mairin, you tell me how you figure it. I still haven't figured that part out. An' just remember -- words are wind. Your intent. Your action. Your Will."

    Nettie plucks her cigarette out of her mouth, and she brings it into her hands, closing her hands over it. She blows between her hands, the smell of just-lit tobacco fades as she gives a little Olde English incantation, and when she parts her fingers, there's a folded paper frog that only smells slightly of tobacco.

    "You belong, Mairin, because you want to. And trust me, if I did not have your back, I wouldn't do this."

    The paper frog hops off her hand and onto the bar.

    Nettie, meanwhile, turns to try the backroom, her hand just lightly patting on John's shoulder.

    "Be back out in a moment."

John Constantine has posed:
    John is quite literally pondering the on-the-fly incantation in his head. Should he use 'mewl or meow'. Fluffy or fuzzy? Bobtail maybe? Should the ears have tufts? Maybe one of those ugly hairless things. Because he *could* do it. It might knock him on his ass, maybe even nearly kill him that level of dark magic, but he *could* and he's *tempted*. Tempted to turn her into a kitten for REAL.

    "If you'd stop all the *whining* and start *doing*, you might find a place faster," he grits out between teeth and jaw clenched with anger. "It's not Nettie's place to *tell* everyone you belong here. It's not her *responsibility* to force everyone to see you as someone that does. Wanting to be here isn't just whining about how much you want to be here."

    He can't even look at Mairin, if he does... she's catified.

    "My *seventeen year old* daughter who started as just my apprentice... shows more..."

    He waves a hand dismissively and mutters, "To hell with it, you'll get it our you won't. You have what you need now to make it so... or not, none of my fuckin' concern."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Be nice John, or I'll curse your Jukebox to play Disney Tunes at random times through the night." Nettie teases. She can't do that, they both know it, but she does disappear into the back room.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Her eyes light up a little at the magic, and she can't help a smile that only grows as Nettie turns and walks away. A smile that turns into an unmistakable, smitten kind of thing as she watches Nettie leave. Then her gaze catches John and her face wipes to neutral. Nope... he definitly didn't see. Because there was nothing *to* see. Nothing at all.

    "And just what would you have me do?" She asks John calmly. "Learn faster than my teacher feels comfortable? Maybe slay a demon or two with my bare hands?" She leans forward a little, not agressively, but intently. "If you have something that I can do, for you... for anyone... Something within my abilities. I'm begging you, tell me what it is." She shakes her head. "It may sound like whining to you, I'm sure you're welcome everywhere. I'm sure you've never had to work to fit in or catch up. But I'm just asking to be shown some basic decency."

John Constantine has posed:
    John barks out a laugh, mirthless, maybe even bitter. "Welcome everywhere?" Ha! But he lets that go.

    "Fine," again ground out between clenched teeth. He stands, and rather than walk around it, he scrambles his way over the bar to snag a pen and a piece of paper.

    Chas lifts one eyebrow curiously. He's not, as of yet, deemed it necessary to butt in because... on one hand, he agrees with John even if he doesn't agree with his best mate's style of delivery.

    It takes a moment or seven, two full notebook pages of time even. The words on it are written in elegant, flowing script. He has beautiful handwriting, it's an extension of the precision needed for his circles and wardings. He rips the two sheets off and hands them to Mairin. "Take this spell and cobble together some of your little robot *things* that are imbued with magic enough to speak the spell AND make it work."

    The spell itself is written in Latin, needs to be spoken in Latin and... is the same one John uses to close those nasty thinnings that have been happening. "Anyone needs to be able to activate and deploy them."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin takes the sheets carefully, scanning them. Her entire demeanor shifting, becoming more serious. "I... I can createsomething that would speak this, but I don't think it would be the same. I don't know how to imbue my work with magic yet. That's part of what I'm trying to learn. So whatever I made, right now, would just be repeating a recording. And I'm assuming that isn't what you want or you would just make an audio file and text it to everyone's phone."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    As Nettie walks into the back room, Jon walks out of it--they keep doing that, crossing paths through doorways. He's wearing loose trousers and a deep blue long-sleeved tee and opens his mouth as he comes out to say, "Hey Chas, d'you know if--"

    And then stops at the way Chas is looking at John and John is looking at... whoever it is he's handing spell notes over to.

    He folds his arms across his chest and just kind of stands there. His thing isn't important, it can wait. He's curious as hell, though. Who's this? What's going on? Etc.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's hand comes down hard on the bartop with a loud SMACK. "STOP DOUBTING YOURSELF, STOP WHINING AND *DO*," he bellows. "You can't survive in *this* without *doing*. Figure it the fuck out! You have what it takes, you showed that with the spell you cast not twenty minutes ago! So fucking DO IT!"

    Patience, it is not a virtue of John Constantine.

    Now Chas issues a soft, "John..." Easy mate. Although he still *agrees*.

    John scrambles back over the bar to sit on his stool and he's *fuming*. He tosses back that drink he poured earlier all in one go and pours another.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin nearly jumps out of her skin. But she doesn't really argue. On the contrary, her entire posture only becomes more focussed and intense. "I'll have to tell Nettie," She says finally, softly but not timidly. "But I'll do this."

    She sits, starring at the pages as if memorizing them. Completely oblivious to John.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie had cheerily greeted Jon with 'Hello lad!' when they crossed paths. She comes out of the back room with a little paper bag of dried Scots nettle, tucking it into her vest pocket as she gives a soft humm of breath, and she looks at Cranky John, then Concentration Mairin, and then Jon. She looks to Jon, and gives a soft 'hm' sound, and then 'AH!' "Yes, John's friend Jon, yeah?"

John Constantine has posed:
    Only someone paying close attention, really close, would notice that brief and barely there curl of one corner of his mouth up into a half smile. It's a hard world, can't be soft on Kittens lest they be carried off and gobbled up by the predators out there.

    He lights a Silk Cut after having stubbed his last out in the ashtray.

    That cigarette bobs up and down with his words, even though they're less than barely audible. "I expect you just might."

    This time when he slides off his stool, it's really time for him to get moving. "I have a *thing*," he can't bring himself to use the word 'ball'. "... to get ready for. Create one, so I can test it... then we'll move on to more," he drops toward Mairin.

    Jon gets a nod, Nettie a wink... because if anyone knows the truth of him here, not just the 'story' but the *truth*, besides Chas it's her. He did exactly what he needed to do to set that Kitten's tail on fire.

    ...and then he's off, toward that backroom, the House of Mystery and at *least* a shower before tonight's fancy shindig.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks at the way John slams his hand on the bar. His brown eyes track to Mairin. "Do I /want/ to know?" A pause. "Well, yes, actually, I do, but..." He squints at her for a long moment, tilts his head. /Blinks/. Peers at John and then Mairin again. Then he sighs and shakes his head, glances over his shoulder at Nettie, coming through the door behind him. Again.

    "Yes," he says. "John's friend Jon." It seems to amuse him. "Oi, you're actually getting /ready/...?"

    Too late! John's gone. He rubs at his face.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin turns as Nettie comes back out, "Nettie," she says, all business. "John wants me to create some magic imbued robots that can repeat this spell..." She places the pages on the counter, carefully avoiding Nettie's little paper frog. "But I'm not going to try unles you agree I should." She pauses, remembering something and seems to consider saying something else. There's a moment of indecision and... she rushes ahead. "I also need to talk to you about... about my friend."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie just gives John a little smile as they pass, her hand brushing against his a moment.

    The little paper frog (which smells a bit like tobacco), hops around the bartop, parking itself in front of Sims.

    "If John Constantine has asked you for a favor, take it. If anything it's a good lesson, because if I know my Johnny as I do--" Nettie sits back down at the bar, giving a grin "He hates asking for help or favors." Nettie taps herself down a moment, and pulls out the little cloth pouch of handrolled tobacco cigs, no filter.

    "About the friend who you brought to my door and refused to give me a name for me to deactivate the wards on, or another friend?" she inquires, and glances over to Jon. "An' Jon, lad, no one likes a Nosy Nettie." she gives a bright grin "I would like to talk to you as well, now that I've got a wee bit better understanding... and check on how you are holdin' up."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon was peering at Mairin with the intensity of someone watching a /really/ fast-moving football (soccer for the locals) match. At Nettie's admonition he blinks and then flushes, brown skin going darker at cheeks and ears.

    "Anyone who knows me knows I'm a nosy git, Nettie," he says, only stammering a /little/ bit. "Anyway, I'm... fine." He does not look fine. He has dark circles under his eyes and a few extra streaks of grey in his hair since the time Nettie met him last week.

    He clears his throat and leans down to peer at the paper frog. "What's this?" He reaches out a finger as if to poke at it. Does not poke. Just in case.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Deep breaths.. "The former... yes. And I couldn't give you a name, it wasn't mine to give. But I *don't* want to rehash all of that. I've already apologized multiple times for bringing her. It won't happen again."

    Another deep, calming steadying breath. "She feels that you mean her harm. In fact she's terrified of you. And I can understand why that is. I need you to promise you wont hurt her, or cause any harm to come to her. She's my friend. More than that, she's a woman who has been curesed with something she never asked for and fights every day to overcome. She deserves help, not animosity. But barring that, I'll settle for a truce."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "USed to be a cigarette. Now it's an origami kaeru. I used to make them dance for children when I lived in Japan." Nettie replies, as if it should be obvious information that she lived in Japan once upon a time."

    NEttie takes a breath then, and she turns to Mairin.

    "I did mean her harm, because I thought she meant you harm. She's not the first, nor the last supernatural beastie I've come up accross, though..." Nettie frowns a moment "She is the most *lively* example of her particular affliction that I've come up against. I would be curious to speak with her on my own terms." Nettie considers again, her aquamarine eyes half-closing. "And then she just pissed me off because I need a name for her to cross the boundary of the wards. I'm not above helping people, Mairin, but I place the safety of my home and students above the safety of their friends -- no matter how hard they have worked to overcome."

    Nettie frowns a moment.

    "I've lost too many students and too many friends to do anything less. Magic will kill you if you don't respect it enough, aye, seen many one of my bunnies perish within the first few months because they bit off more than they could chew and choked."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon reaches out, very gently, to... pet the frog. Yes, /pet/, as if it were a cat or something. Very gently, on the little pointed 'head.' It ribbits at him, and his eyes light up as if he's genuinely delighted by this. He grins brightly.

    Without looking away from the frog, he says, "I am /not/ going to pry and ask who you're talking about." He wants to. Ohhh, he wants to. He's always been nosy, but becoming the Archivist's made it /so/ much worse. "But that reminds me--at some point when I'm not about to go give John an excuse to laugh his arse off at me, Nettie, I need to talk to you. About magic."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    She turns to look at Jon, and an almost childlike amusment crosses her face, just watching him play with the frog.

    But she has to turn back to Nettie eventually. "I understand that. Completely," Mairin says with carefully measured words. "And, like I said, I was wrong to bring her to the shop. But I'm not asking you to let her in the shop. Ever. To be honest I don't think she ever wants to see you again," This last brings a little twinge of sadness to her eyes. God, she just wanted her friends to be friends. She's never had a 'friend group'... it would have been so awesome. But... Deep breath.

    "All I'm asking now is that you make a promise not to hurt her. Or cause harm to come to her. She's *not* dangerous Nettie. No more than you or John. No matter what she looks like, that isn't what she *is*."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
The frog ribbits cutely.

    Nettie looks relaxed, in spite of the duality of the conversation.

    She flicks her hand out, and she produces a rather tattered business card, puts it on the bar, and sliiiides it to Jon. It's a yellow, mass-produced business card that says: N. CROWE Crowe Shipping Company Tea Blending Specialist on one side, and on the other:
    ~*~N CROWE~*~
    *MAGICAL APOTHECARY*PURVEYER OF OCCULT ITEMS*TEAS BLENDED AND REFINED*

    And has an address on it. Presumably, her shop.

    "Goodness sakes, Mairin, I was inviting her in but I literally needed something to address her as, otherwise the ward would have given her a pretty bad evening. You and Ty and John, Zatanna, and now this lad here -- and Chas. Chas is another... trying to think of anyone else who I'm friends with..." she trails off, and motions for Jon to take the card.

    "And saying someone is no more dangerous than me or Johnny, poppet..." Nettie frowns a moment.

    "John is one of the most dangerous men alive today. Not because of his powers, no, though formidable." she taps her cig once, and takes a deep drag.

    "I am also hazardous to the health but others, but in a very different way." she gives a toothy grin.

    "And what is she, Poppet?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon picks up the card, pulls out his wallet--a heavy thing, black leather--and slides it on in. He blinks at Nettie, at 'friend,' and smiles a bit. It seems to take him off-guard, being considered a friend.

    Still... "Nettie's right," he says, turning around to fold his arms across his chest and lean against the bar. "I don't judge people very often, and I count John as one of the best men in the world, but he's /also/ incredibly dangerous. 'Dangerous' does not mean 'bad' or 'evil' it just means... dangerous. Threatening." He shrugs. "I think I /will/ pry. Who or what is your friend? Does she need help?" Oh, Jon, you can barely help yourself.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    "I understand about the other night. I'm just talking about how things are here and now. Regardless of how they got there." Mairin nods, "I know. I know John is dangerous. And I know you are. Hell, I vaporized something in here today... *I'm* dangerous. Just not nearly as... And I'm not afraid of any of you. Because I know that just because you have the ability to do all kinds of horrible things to me... You won't. And I know that about... *her* too."

    She turns to look at Jon and doesn't seem to mind the question, but is obviously unsure about answering it. "I'm not at liberty to give her name. But she was cursed by a Jiangshi." She turns back to Nettie, "And worked for years to throw off that curse, to regain her own... personhood. And now all she wants is to help people. To make things. To make the world a better place. She's brilliant, and she deserves that chance no matter what awful thing might have happened to her. And..." she pause, "She's my apprentice. She works for me."

    She sighs. "Please, Nettie, all I'm asking for is a promise that you won't hurt her. Just leave her alone."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie stares a moment. And the warmth and color just drains from her face as Mairin continue speaking. Her eyes narrow, a moment as she leans forward.

    "I'm... I'm sorry. I *must* have heard you incorrectly, Mairin." she states.

    Chas might have said 'Nettie...' in the same way that he would try to rein in John.

    Nettie is very still. Her hands curl into loose fists. "First you go and you seek other training behind my back. You have a monster start working on your will. And then you show up here and start complaining that I do not respect you, and then you have the *gall* to tell me that this creature, who refused my own hospitality offered at risk of my home and my better judgement, who a litteral child in the magical arts has determined is 'no more dangerous', is. Your. Apprentice."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Jiangshi... ah. Another kind of vampire. Right. I have come to the point of just assuming all 'folklore' is real until proven otherwise," Jon muses. He eyes Mairin for a moment, then goes back into his wallet to dig out his own business card and hand it over.

    'Jonathan Sims, MD' it says. 'Psychiatrist. Specializing in PTSD, DID, ASD, RAD, Sleep Disturbances. Sliding Scale.' There's a phone number, and an address for an office in Queens.

    He's about to say something, about the card, when Nettie... gets angry. He closes his mouth, raises his eyebrows, watches. Listens.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin leans back, her eyes searching Nettie's face in confusion. "Yes..." her voice is small. "I hired her to work on the research project with me. She's helping me with my work. She's a tallented fabricator and..." Her brain is obviously trying to work overtime to think what she said wrong. Which, you'd think by now, would be quick because she's used to it... but no. It always takes a bit.

    The lightbulb clicks.. "I'm not teaching her magic, Nettie!" She almost shouts it it in relief. "God, no. I would never do that. I... I promised!"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie is quiet for a moment, and she looks to the paper bag of Scotts Nettles in her hand, and she takes a deep breath. She lets it go.

    "I expect you at the Candle in forty-five minutes." she states in an even tone, and then she stands up and goes to make an exit.

    "I understand your path is leading elsewhere, Jon. You are welcome to find yourself at my door any time." she states evenly, and then goes for the door out of the Laughing Magician.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    God, why can't a single conversation with her *not* end in someone storming out? Mairin watches Nettie go with that obvious.. 'But... but...' look and gesture, but says nothing. She looks to Chas, then to Jon, "What did I say wrong?" she mutters.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon keeps holding out the card. "Saying you've taken on a vampire as your apprentice in much of /anything/ might have been the kicker," he says with a smirk. "Not that I'm judging. I have met two of them, now, and both are fine ladies who are trying to handle their condition as well as possible." He quirks a brow. "But if you're as new to this as I am, well, your judgement on whether or not she's safe might be..."

    He hesitates a moment. "Perhaps she's safe. Perhaps she's tricking you. If it's the former, I'm willing to help." He puts the card down on the bar. "Give her my number. And feel free to call yourself. But I need to get going."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin just shakes her head in wonderment and picks up the card, tucking it into her satchel. "Just can't win for loosing," she mutters as she gets up and heads out herself. She only has a bit of time to get to the shop and get yeled at some more. Yay.