8393/Emotional Advice with a Mean Left Hook

Emotional Advice with a Mean Left Hook
Date of Scene:	24 October 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician (Hell's Kitchen)
Synopsis:	Jon takes Chas to the school of hard knocks, literally. And points out just how much of an idiot he's been acting like the past few days.
Cast of Characters:	Chas Chandler, Jonathan Sims

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Chas Chandler has posed:
    It's after hours at The Laughing Magician, or well, the bar is closed as if it is. Usually the place would be open to the public at this hour, but not tonight. Only those who have permission are allowed in, which at the moment means just Chas. Chas looks a little under the weather. Dark circles ringing his eyes, and both his hands are bandaged with wrappings that have dark brown stains on them.

    He is currently organizing the bottles behind the bar, it's difficult to tell what the system is but there is obviously some method to the madness being created behind the bar.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon pokes his head in, making sure, first off, that Constantine isn't here. And then that Chas /is/, because, well, Chas is who he's looking for. He makes sure the door is secured behind him and then strides toward the bartender. He walks swiftly, and he's clearly /furious/, though at who or what might not be readily apparent.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "We're closed so unless you have--" Chas cuts off as he turns and realizes who it is. "Oh. Jon. Sorry. Thought you were one of the..." He cuts off again as he reads the man's demeanor. "Is... is everything alright?" he asks. "Do you need a drink?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon doesn't stop, striding right on up to the bar. He only manages what he does because he's catching Chas off guard--after all, why would Chas imagine that Jonathan Sims would walk up to him and /deck/ him?

    The man doesn't have a /strong/ left hook, but he's at least accurate, hitting Chas right in the cheek. Oof

    "What the /hell/ is wrong with you?!" he shouts, clearly in high dudgeon.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas is a big man, and has been in his share of fights but this hook catches him more than most would. It was so out of character and unexpected. He staggers and might've fallen if the bar wasn't there. He grits his teeth and keeps his own temper in check, checking on his cheek to see if the skin was split. It wasn't and he straightens. "I'm going to give you the benefit of a doubt and ask why here... but know it's because I respect you." He works his jaw a bit. Sometimes accuracy makes up for strength, Jon's punch more than did that.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Yeah, sure, you /respect/ me enough to go spilling my private fucking business!" Jon glares at Chas, hands in fists at his sides. He knows he got that one in for free, and he's fairly certain he'd come out worse in a fight with Chas. And... he's not quite drunk enough to try anyway.

    "What the /hell/ did you say to John?! And where the hell do you get off telling him I was /whining/ at you about shit you /pushed/ me about?!"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns at Jon. "Oh... that's for..." He nods. "I felt it was important that the Night Brigade know what projects we're on. If it's something to frighten you and hurt Zee, we should know at the least." He reaches under the bar and withdraws a beer bottle coated with condensation. He puts it to his cheek.

    "But I didn't say you were whining. At least... I didn't use that word." He winces at the cold. "I told him that Zee got hurt pretty bad and you were emotionally damaged by something you wouldn't talk to us about. Secrets get people killed or worse, Jon. You might not tell me, but maybe you would him. You're both in the same league after all."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "No, you /shouldn't./ It's someone else's private business, Chas." Jon slams his hands onto the bar, leans over, glaring at Chas. "So, what, do I have to tell you about every fucking patient that comes through my door? Every Story I hear, every /private/ thing that happens? I'm not telling John, I'm not telling /anyone/, because it's /none of your fucking business./"

    After a moment, "'Secrets get people killed?' Come off it, my whole /life/ is about keeping secrets, Chas. I'm not a cabbie or a bartender, I'm a /psychiatrist/ and the Archivist, I can't go running to you and John with every fucking thing that happens."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas leans forward. "Even when it takes one of our strogest, smartest, and best members off the map? Sure you can keep the secrets of your patients, Jon" he says but the Night Brigade is a team and we need to know *what* threats we're facing. Even independently. If it can take Zee down... what can it do to the rest of us?"

     He shakes his head with irritation. "We've got fucking demons running around handing off necromancy and deal slinging to every wayward mage and now something that can take a Homo Magus off the grid? That's not something you can just sweep under the rug because it's 'someone else's business.' That is what we work against. Or maybe you hadn't noticed?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon clenches his jaw. "Do you really want to know what happened, Chas? /Do/ you?" A pause. "Has it occurred to you that maybe I'm /protecting/ you? Protecting /everyone/? That maybe, /maybe/ what I am isn't /just/ about the damn Night Brigade? Are you /sure/ you want to know what I ran into, that resisted Phoebe's Light?"

    Those dark eyes are heavy, haunted, and /glare/ at Chas, with more than just the piercing gaze he's always had. There's power behind those eyes, now, even if he's still untrained in how to use it.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The intensity of Jon's words makes the bartender hesitate. "I... you should tell John, if you tell anyone. I'm just a normal guy. You are the ones with the powers and besides... me and John aren't exactly on speaking terms right now."

    He looks to one side and scowls. "But yeah... I think you should at least tell Constantine. He'll probably go and try to fix it like all the rest of the crazy shit going on, but..." Chas pauses. "He is the leader, so if it's mystical in nature, he should know."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "No," Jon says, firmly. "/No/. I am not telling John, not least because I made a /promise/ to someone else that it would remain /private/. Since when did being in the Night Brigade mean that we have to tell you guys every single thing we ever do?" He raises his eyebrows. "I don't remember agreeing to that. And if that's the deal? Then I'm /out/, because the Archivist /cannot/ work that way."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "No," Jon says, firmly. "/No/. I am not telling John, not least because I made a /promise/ to someone else that it would remain /private/. Since when did being in the Night Brigade mean that we have to tell you guys every single thing we ever do?" He raises his eyebrows. "I don't remember agreeing to that. And if that's the deal? Then I'm /out/, because the Archivist /cannot/ work that way."

    After a moment, he adds in a tone clearly /meant/ to be insulting, "/Some/ people respect other people's /privacy/, Chas."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas looks at Jon and shakes his head. "No. Don't... don't go... just..." He frowns. "It's not about respecting privacy" he says emphatically. "It's about safety. Christ. None of you seem to even understand that concept. Fine. Keep the secret of it, but... you should probably talk to someone about what's troubling you."

    "Like I said, we're a team and if you, one of our heavy hitters, is..." He gestures to his head. "Distracted or whatever, it also poses a risk that we should know about. You don't have to tell us what caused it... but knowing what it is might help us deal with it better." Each utterance of 'us' held a deeper meaning: me. He wanted Jon to tell him specifically what was going on. He *needed* Jon to tell him, something about it was important to him on a deep fundamental level.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "...Has it occurred to you that maybe, in this case, it's safer if /you don't know/? Knowledge can be dangerous all in itself, Chas. And moreover? You're not the only ones in the world that deal with high-level, dangerous shit."

    Jon picks up his hand to slam it down on the bar. "You don't /get/ it! Neither of you do! What I am now, what I do, it's all /about/ dangerous knowledge and keeping secrets! John called my grandmother every week, told her almost /everything/, and he never knew she was related to me. And there is shit out there, right now, that I /know/ you don't know about, that I do, because of my job. I have to make the decision, /every day/, about whether someone is enough of a danger to themself or others to be committed to a facility. Every /day/. I know people's intimate secrets, and I have to make sometimes snap decisions about who /else/ might need to know those secrets. I have /years/ of training in making those decisions, whole case files full of decisions about professional ethics, and this is the /same thing/. My professional opinion is that the secret I am keeping is, in actuality, /too/ dangerous to expose to anyone else. /I'm/ not fucking qualified to handle it, but I'm the one who stumbled on it, and I cannot let it get out any farther than it already is."

    He lifts his chin. "And Zatanna is /fine/ now. She had excellent care, and she's helping me deal with the problem. And in this case, I actually /am/ more qualified to determine that than you or John ever would be."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas doesn't look entirely pleased, even knowing that Zatanna is recovered. "Then... I guess I'll just worry." He shakes his head. "Look, if you want to keep your secrets and your mysteries and your dangers, I guess that's on you and what you do." He sighs. "I just... keeping all that knowledge and not letting any of it out can't be healthy. And I get, there are terrible monsters out there. Mind breaking horrors that I can't even fathom, but..." He trails off.

    He shakes his head again, "Regardless of whatever powers you've been given, your still mostly human. You can't just bottle it all up and hope that it won't affect you. Just talk to... someone. To at least get it off your chest, even."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Yeah, well, I didn't think that's what we /did/ here, Chas. What happened to me doesn't need a /bartender/. What happened to me..." Jon hesitates, then looks away.

    "What happened to me is the kind of thing people go to therapists for. It's the kind of thing people come to /me/ for. So back the fuck off." He actually lets the pain into his voice, for a moment. Whatever it was, it was /bad/.

    There's a moment of silence, and then, "I was /assaulted/, Chas. I was /psychically assaulted/, and you went and used it as... fodder in whatever bullshit you've got going on with John. So excuse me for not /trusting/ you."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas winces as Jon tells him what was done. "You were... you're... no..." he says softly. "I... I didn't know..." He sighs and looks down. "I'm sorry, Jon. I... If I had known that's what it was... I..."

    He hangs his head. "I'm a fucking fool. You should've done more than just punch me for that, Jon. You should've throttled me within an inch of my life for using... "He looks decidedly disgusted with himself.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "No," Jon says, "you didn't know. And it didn't occur to you, to think through what might have been /that/ bad." His voice is tight, as if his /chest/ is tight and it's having trouble coming out. "You just... you just..."

    He drops his hands off the bar, clenching them into fists again. He's still not looking at Chas. "John came in here last night, yelling at me about trying to take the team from him. He tried to throw his damn trenchcoat at me. Accused me of trying to 'steal' his best mate. Of trying to /be/ him." He clenches his jaw. "I do not understand what on /Earth/ would give him that impression, but whatever the /fuck/ you said to him..."

    He shudders a little, and finally turns that glare back on Chas. "Whatever the hell is going on between you, I don't appreciate you fobbing off your issues with John onto /me/. I think I know what you're doing, but I'm too fucking /livid/ right now to even begin to approach this in a rational manner."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas looks up at Jon's explanation of what Constantine had done. "Oh, fucking hell..." he mutters. "I... I told him he wasn't doing a good enough job of leading the Night Brigade because he was too focused on... on Phoebe. And I mentioned you and Zee's thing as evidence of how poorly he'd been keeping track of things."

    He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "What the fuck was I thinking..." He then gives Jon an apologetic look and says, "I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put my foot in it. In any of it. I was just... worried and I didn't want you and Zee to go... I didn't want you two to get too deep and not be able to call for help if you need it. I just... what can I do... to make it right, Jon?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I don't know if you can, with me," Jon admits. "I... don't trust well or fast or at /all/. There was /one/ person in the world I would have been able to tell about this and he's... gone. But of course you just... assumed it was about /you/." He sighs.

    "Do me a favor," he says after a moment. "Whatever you said about John, or me and Zed? Re-frame it as being about /you/. Do /you/ feel you're failing the Night Brigade? Do /you/ feel you're losing track of things? Are /you/ afraid of getting in too deep and not being able to call for help?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas listens to Jon, his expression remaining slack and self-repulsed. After Jon asks him to turn his gaze inward and look at his own place, he laughs. "I... I can't help the Night Brigade. Not really."

    "I mean, sure I can be a gophor for John..." he pauses and sighs. "Or well, I was until I shoved that foot into my mouth, but I can't be out there with you guys. I'm just the barkeep who mans the fort while the big guns go out and save things. So... lumping me in with the rest of you isn't fair... to the rest of you."

    He shakes his head. "I haven't the faintest idea what any of you are doing so yeah... I'm a little out of the loop with what I can know." He runs a hand over his face. "My problems are a little too small to go calling for the likes of help from you guys. Zed, John, you... little issues like mine aren't really noticable for your kind."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon rolls his eyes. "Christ, I don't have the time or the patience for... grow /up/ Chas. Fuck's sake, /plenty/ of people out there don't have special powers and they still step up and do what's needed. And tending the bar, keeping us safe and whole emotionally? That /is/ important. Quit with the bullshit dick-sizing, I /know/ you know better."

    He hesitates. Then, "...You /know/ better, Chas. What the hell happened?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas looks offended at Jon's response. "Maybe I don't Jon? Has that occured to you? Maybe John going and making a fucking pact with fucking Nergal" he didn't seem to fear the name when he wasn't around John, "made me sick to look at John because I realized that he'd done it as much for *me* as for *Phoebe*? That I'm as much a liability as she was with her bitch of a cousin after her? Moreso now that she's back to full strenght."

    He sighs. "And thank you for that. I know without you it wouldn't have happened at all." He shakes his head and continues. "It's not about dick-sizing, it's about purpose. Because if it is as you say, and I keep the group safe and whole emotionally? I'm going such a bangger of a job of that, aren't I?" he says with severe sarcasm.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon /flinches/ visibly at the name, then says, "Well, then, /do better/. Stop projecting on other people, stop dragging /me/ into the fucking middle of it. Go tell your damn friend that you trust him and you feel like /you're/ the problem. Stop... asking me to take care of your daughter, stop... just... stop using me as a damn emotional shield, Chas. It's not fair to anyone."

    He slams his hand on the bar. "Last night I was /this/ close," he puts up his fingers on his other hand, less than an inch apart, "from taking off this damn amulet and throwing it at John. Because I thought I was the problem. But I'm /not/ the problem--/you're/ the damn problem. Have you even /asked/ John why he made that deal? The /real/ reason, not the..." He stops. Grinds his teeth.

    "If you would /talk/ to him," he says finally, "you might find that John doesn't think you're a /liability/."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas listens to Jon and nods. "Myabe you're right... I... I'll ask him, when I think... when I might be ready for the answer. For now, I know that he did it and that bothers me too much to get past."

    He continues. "But I will do the rest that you said. I'll talk to him I'll... tell him how I feel and not use other people as a shield. Jon. Thank you."

    He looks around the empty bar. "Can I get you anything? Other than jaw of cabbie on platter? For a scrawny guy, you got a mean hook... lot meaner than I was expecting."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "My husband insisted that I learn to defend myself," Jon says quietly. "Because he knew /he couldn't always be around to protect me/." He says that like it's important. Like he's trying to drill something into Chas' head.

    Then he pushes up off the bar. "Talk to John," he says. "/As soon as possible/. He's stalking around thinking he's a terrible leader and it's your fucking fault. And don't bring me up. Whatever..." He sighs. "Whatever the hell is going on there..."

    He stops. Frowns, and looks away. "It's better," he says finally, "if I think of this like a job. I can be friendly with co-workers, but I'm not... what I need, emotionally? I'm not going to find it here. And I fucked everything up because I thought I would, and that's... on me, really." He shrugs.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns, clearly upset by the latter fact but he nods. "I'm sorry we weren't able to give you that, Jon. Really... but..." He extends his hand. "Colleagues?" he asks. "Allies. Cooperative when we need to be but... we can't be the family you thought we could. And, regardless of fault, I'm sorry. I think I'll track down, Jon and fix what I can" he said, pulling out a bic lighter and looking it over.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon shrugs. "You don't need me, in that sense--you all have each other. None of you need /me/, in an emotional sense. And I need to be needed. It's..." He sighs. "If I thought you needed me, to be part of your family? I'd probably stay, however much anyone yelled at me."

    He smiles ruefully after a moment. "I know that's... not entirely healthy, but... I am not really an emotionally healthy person, however much I try to be. I /do/ try to be aware of it, though."

    He shrugs. "I will be part of the team. I can be friends. Maybe... maybe some day John will talk to me, the way he talked to Gran."

    Another hesitation, then, "Go find your damn friend and fix this. Don't worry about me. I'll be alright."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods still seeming worried about the man, but letting him have his space. "Where you staying tonight?" he asks. "I think they're opening a complex for members nearby, if you want to check it out. Might be a good home away from home for you until... you know..." He didn't say it, but the 'until you get over the grief of your dead husband' was clear.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I've already gone back to the flat," Jon says. "I'm going to sublet it, which means boxing everything up. Zatanna's idea, but she was right, I've got the space and I can pay it forward to people who need it. I'll move into the Curio once it's set up."

    He sighs. "Stop worrying about me, Chas. You can't help me. Go help /John/. He needs you. Okay?"

    Then he turns to walk on back out.