8401/The Wizard and the F*****g Tank

The Wizard and the F*****g Tank
Date of Scene:	24 October 2021
Location:	The Curio
Synopsis:	John and Chas talk about where Chas truly belongs with the rest of the Night Brigade and come to terms with some of their past problems.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Chas Chandler

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John Constantine has posed:
    It's not a sight Chas is unfamiliar with, the laying groundwork for the warding thing. It mostly involved John walking around the rooms, feeling the walls, sometimes even listening to them, marking them here or there with different sigils or letters from dead languages. Basically, it's laying a blueprint for what's going to work where and how.

    Currently he's standing in the middle of the room, shoes kicked off, trenchcoat on the couch, shirt untucked and unbuttoned, tie loose. The is the stage where he's just looking at it all, sight wide open, making sure what he's planned lines up with what he sees. East, West, North, South, up, down and in between, it all matters and every building is different.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    It doesn't take Chas long to find John. The lighter's tether between them giving him a pretty accurate compass to finding the man. He stands back and looks at John for a moment. "I fucked up..." he says softly.

    It's a first step. An important first step. "I... I said some things I shouldn't have... and I... I fucked up. I... I came to say I'm sorry." He pauses again. "And the try and make it right. Or... as right as it can be, you and I."

John Constantine has posed:
    At first John's expression is completely impassive. But a person doesn't live with a man like John Constantine all those years without picking up those little tells. The things that mean he's processing, trying to figure out what to do with a situation. It happens a *lot* in social situations that involve feelings, especially when some of have been hurt. These skills aren't something he ever learned as a child, when a person should learn these skills.

    First he tugs the Silk Cut from behind his ear and lights it with the Zippo from his pocket. He tucks it between his lips and leaves it there. Next he reaches up to sort of flick-rub his nose with his index finger. Then he tugs a little at his ear and finally he runs a hand back through his hair.

    Little tilted head shake and, "I don't know the difference right now between what *I'm* feeling and what..." His head does that damned thing again, tilted to the other side, a little shake. "... I can't shake, mate."

    He's trying, really hard here. But it is hard, like Chas himself said, maybe one of the hardest things he's had to do yet. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I love you, Chas. That's the one thing I do know, over all of it, under all of it... around all the shite I can't tell the difference between right now."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods. "I know. I know. I just... I wanted to apologize and say, I love you to, mate." He shrugs. "I just... I'm scared John. And when I get scared... I lash out. A lot of the time I lash out at the ones I love the most."

    He isn't crying; he's shed too many tears and drank too little water today to have much left for tears. "I say stupid shite, make bullshite accusations, and turn my own feelings out as daggers to my friends. To my family."

    "Bullshite accusations like you not being a good leader for the Brigade, when the problem really is: I don't know what *I* can do for the Brigade" he says. "Bullshite accusations like the Brigade is fractured, broken,..." he shakes his head, "when the problem is, *I* am the one that's fractured. Broken." He sniffs, still no tears, but if he had them, he'd be shedding them like a faucet by now.

    "I'd follow you through Hellfire, John..." he says, voice cracking, "but I wouldn't make it out alive; we both know that. I'd do it, but I wouldn't make it. I'm not like the rest of you. Not by a long shot."

John Constantine has posed:
    John's expression, the way his head pulls back a little, the way his nose wrinkles up and his eyebrows both knit together and climb? It matches his next words exactly, "What the *fuck*, mate? What the fuck are you talking about?" He shakes his head, but this time it's more than that little tilted thing.

    "How many times have you fought beside me, mate? You'd live through the Hellfire, Chas, because I'd make it so with magic. Same way I'd make it through the fifty deep fucking vampire nest having a rave because you'd blow the fuckin' heads off at least half of them. You're *human*, Chas, you aren't *helpless*. You have what? thirty-something lives left? *If* you happen to burn in that Hellfire? You're a fucking *beast*, mate. You've broken my jaw *twice* before I even saw it coming and I see shite coming."

    His words, their tone, it's some odd conglomeration of incredulous, angry and a little awed.

    "You're a human with a shotgun and a one hit drop right hook. I'm a human with magic up my sleeve. The Wizard and the Fucking *tank*, mate."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas shakes his head. "Yeah, I can take on your bog-standard monster or witch" he says. "But the things you've been going toe to toe against of late... demons, necromancers, gods. I'm nothing to them. Sure I've got a shotgun and little over half the deck left in lives but... pretty sure rock-salt and buckshot isn't going to much more than inconvenience any of those."

    He shakes his head. "I want to be out there with you, working at saving Phoebe's life. But... things are just too big, mate. Even for me." He sighs, looking resigned. "I just... I needed to let you know that. I can go out and fight the vampire nest, or hold back the horde of imps while you destroy the vortex keeping them animate, but... I don't feel like I can save my daughter, adoptive or not when push comes to shove."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Jesus Fucking Christ, mate. Don't you think I feel that way every fucking day of the bloody week? Over everything? I walk out there *terrified*. I'm... You're bloody *wrong*, Chas." John takes a step closer and then stops. He's just not *good* at this and he knows it.

    "I'd be a lot less fuckin' so, if you were with me." Terrified that is.

    "That's why this *bullshite* I can't fuckin' shake, these doubts and ... I *know* you'd have come if you'd heard me. Hell our high, you'd have come."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods. "I would. Despite it all, I would" he said stepping closer as well. "And that's why I know you *can* shake it. I was wrong and I know it." He pauses. "I... I need something, mate. I know it's going to make you scared as hell, but I *need* it mate."

    "I need to be out there" he nods to the streets. "I need to have your back like old times. No more of this babysitting shite. I've gotten soft and I fuckin' hate it. I need to be the tank I used to be, man." He grins to John. "So what do you say, Leader? Can you handle that? Can you handle having me at your back out there as fuckin' tank?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "I can, mate. It's what I *want*, but..." There's always a but isn't there? "You've *got* to let me do what I need to do, chas. I can't have you tellin' me 'don't' when. I can't have you... You just gotta let me do what I need to do."

    Like drinking Nightshade and cutting deals.

    *Especially when it comes to this business with Leksandria. I can have you by my side. I *want* you there, but I can't have you making me second guess the next move. If there's a price to be paid for it, then I pay and we fix it when we get home."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods. "I know. I know you have to do that shit. Fuck, mate, you know what really bothers me about it don't you?" he asks.

    "It's that I want to be taking some of those for you. But I can't and that means that you have to take it all." He sighs. "But I get it man, I do. All the deals, all the shortcuts, all the poisons. You have to do it because you've got the power in you to get through it." He shakes his head. "I down that shit and sure I come back... but I can't do anything in the in between. It just doesn't work like that for me and I get that."

    "I don't suppose I can arm wrestle you for the killing blow on the bitch can I?" he asks lifitng his shirtsleeve a little to reveal an extremely toned forearm. There is just a slight quirk of his lips to let John know he's joking. Mostly.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Taking them from me isn't your job, mate. Yours is more important. It's pickin' me up after so I can the next one and the one after that," John points out quietly.

    He pucks that Silk that's damned near nothing but ... butt from between his lips. It's already dropped ash all over his shirt, a little on the floor. For lack of an ashtray, he licks his finger and thumb and pinches it out between them.

    "You mentioned... *him* last night." There's a reason John won't say that name, Nergal, it's the blood connection, the involuntary transfusion of the bastard's blood. Saying his name around John can, and has, invoked the fucker before, allowed him to boil that blood in John's veins. "...I need to tell that story too... I need to come clean with it all, mate."

    He looks around the room, toward the doors, the stairs... "But right now I have about five more hours of groundwork to lay so I can finish this tomorrow and the people following *us* into this shite'll have a safe place to lay their heads if needed."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas gives his friend a long look and then nods. "It'll come when it comes, mate. Do what you need to here." He turns and starts back to the Laughing Magician. "I'll be next door upstairs. You need me..." he pulls the lighter from his pocket and waves it a bit. "You know how to get ahold of me."