8455/A DAY at the Laughing Magician

A DAY at the Laughing Magician
Date of Scene:	27 October 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	John and the Night Brigade gain another puppy, his name is Dex. More stuff happened, there were feelings involved, a new case John was working on ends up possibly being connected to John and Chas' past. It was just a DAY. ...and a really long scene.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Jubilation Lee, Dex Alruin, Phoebe Beacon, Paul Ramsey, Chas Chandler

---

John Constantine has posed:
    It's a day ending in Y, innit? So of course that day finds John Constantine on his Pauper's Throne - that stool that no one ever wants to sit upon. It's gross, truly, who would ever want to sit there?

    He's about half into a bottle of scotch *already* and it's not even lunch time. It's been a week. His ashtray is about halfway full already as well, that pack of Silk Cuts sitting beside it, that faithful old Zippo gifted by the best mate and best cabbie in Heaven and Hell and all the realms between sits on top the pack. He's not an animal though, he *is* drinking from a glass, not straight from the bottle. It hasn't been *that* much of a week.

    Nigel-William, the bartender on duty, is at the end of the bar *opposite* John and side-eyeing his boss warily. (His name's really William, but John insists up on calling him Nigel.) Tall, lanky, glasses, long dark hair that's likely dyed, Nigel is a Goth looking Occult Studies student that's really not sure that he made the right life choice with this job.

    The jukebox shuffles through its usual fare of punk and classic rock, volume turned down to 'lunch time conversation' levels.

Jubilation Lee has posed:
    The door swings open suddenly and a low-budget ghost floats in! Not really. It's a bed sheet in the shape of a person, but it is gliding through the air without the usual bobbing up and down associated with walking. Once it passes through the doorway, the sheet is swept upwards, revealing that it was Jubilation Lee all along! She would've gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for those meddling...uh... nevermind.

    Jubilee walks further into the Laughing Magician and tosses the sheet onto an empty table. Trace amounts of smoke can be seen lifting from her skin, just a thin layer of it that might be noticed when the light catches it just right. It stops after a second or so. "Hello beautiful people!" she announces, waving her hand high in the air. "Nigel-William, looking spooky as ever, might I say!" She flashes the bartender a big, fangy smile and invites herself to plop right down onto the seat next to the pauper's throne. She's clutching a piece of paper in her fist.

    "Major Arcana, huh?" is all she says, grinning at Constantine.

Dex Alruin has posed:
    Dex has been... out of sorts, to say the least. His meeting with the Joker has him panicked, and even though it's only been a couple of days, he looks like he hasn't slept in about a week. Heavy bags under his eyes, hair unkempt, clothing rumpled and maybe slightly stained since he hasn't changed. His Proto-Shot rests on his back, sheathed in place in its battery pack, and Dex looks up to find himself in a part of town he's not familiar with.

    The backfire of a nearby car causes him to draw his bow and flick the pack on, the hum of the hardlight weapon rumbling lightly through the air before he blinks a few times.

    Yeah, to say he's on edge is a bit of an understatement.

    Hell's Kitchen is uncomfortable, but he feels edged enough to not be threatened, and as he reaches the place he had heard about, he tilts his head. 'Laughing Magician?' he thinks, 'Am I out of my element again?' He shrugs. He is completely lost in a world he is nowhere near prepared to handle, and right now he needs guidance. Hopefully this 'Night Brigade' could help.

    And so he makes his way down the stairs, flicking his battery pack off again and removing it from his back, setting it under the sign before pushing open the door. "Hello?" he offers, voice haggard with exhaustion.

John Constantine has posed:
    Rumpled, unkempt, bags under his eyes, look... it could be John Jr. Stains too? Is it John Jr.? The Laughing Magician's faded denim blues turn toward the door upon Jubilee's entrance, but they shift quickly to the new face. Interesting... normal, the wards ping nothing but... normal.

    "Hello, mate. Something I can do for you?" he asks in a friendly enough tone, for him.

    He reaches over to snatch the paper from Jubilee's hand like the asshole that he is and asks, "Whatcha got here, luv?"

    He plucks the lit cigarette from between his lips as he goes about looking at whatever that paper might be.

    "Seemed a decent enough name, better than Mucous Membrane, aye? I don't know *what* we were thinking."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Because everyone over thirty would think it was gross." Phoebe calls out, her hair wrapped in a blue wrap today as she comes down the stairs, drawing herself up with a big, flat package under her arm as she gives a soft humph.

    "Morning Jubilee, morning D-" she pauses, seeing the new guy "... Dad." she states, adn gives a grin over to John.

Dex Alruin has posed:
    Dex straightens up as John addresses him, the man pushing his glasses up his nose. For some reason this seems to make him look even more exhausted. "Uh, yes. Hello! I apologize for my appearance..." he starts, looking at himself and realizing just how rumpled he is. Man, he should've at least tried.

    "I heard about something known as the Night Brigade," he continues, pulling a chair and sitting across from John. "I was just wondering if... Well, I don't have a LOT to offer, but I also kind of... need to not be alone if that particular event catches back up to me. I'm not familiar with this organization, but I thought that starting closer to home would be a smart idea..."

    He shakes his head. "That sounds dumb. Probably."

Jubilation Lee has posed:
    When the flyer advertising Major Arcana's upcoming show is snatched from her hands, Jubilation gently rolls her eyes and looks up at William-Nigel with a look that just screams 'typical.' She grins a little and shakes her head just in time to watch the stranger come walking in.

    She shrugs one shoulder and hops off of the stool to give the stranger some room. Jubilee walks towards the jukebox and presses the palms of her hands against the glass as she stares at its offering. "Oooh, hi, Pheebs. Whatcha got there?" She points her index finger at the flat package she's carrying.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's eyes roll heavenward and he mutters, "Bloody puppies..." in a very much 'why me' tone of voice and right out loud. He sucks in a breath, lets it out slowly, then another, then he downs the contents of his half full glass before, "Talk to me like I'm stupid," he quips, because in this matter he really is... "What particular event is nipping at your heels?"

    He offers his daughter a quick wink. John's wearing that 'I'm not in the mood to be nice' expression, she knows the one. It's not the 'bad mood' one so much as it is, the 'my snark is out of the box today' one. The package gets a once over, a raised eyebrow and then it's back to Dex.

    Nigel-William just looks a little mortified at Jubilee, could be because she was just *smoking*, but it might also be that he doesn't want to be associated with anyone that might be eye-rolling at The Boss.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Something I finished up last night. It's for him." Phoebe states, giving John some room as she sets it to the side, and she looks at the jukebox.

    "... I wonder --" she gives a wry grin, and she pulls out a quarter from her pocket. Might be a magicked quarter, who knows?

    She attempts to load it into the jukebox to see if it will take it.

Dex Alruin has posed:
    The awkward young man looks down at his hands. "I may or may not have run afoul of the Joker a couple of days ago. And by may or may not, I mean I shot one of his henchmen with an arrow and barely missed hitting HIM with one as well. It was... stupid. But it opened my eyes that trying to be a vigilante alone with my particular skillset is going to result in me being a smear on the sidewalk."

    He shakes his head, then makes an odd semi-shrugging motion. "I'm not trying to sound like I'm just watching my own back, but... it seems my ambition might be higher than my ability." He shrugs again. "I've only heard name and location of your place here, I admit, but... gotta look somewhere, right?"

    Right?

Jubilation Lee has posed:
    Talk to me like I'm stupid, John said. "Does that go for all of us?" Jubilation replies loudly, looking over her shoulder at John and Dex with a big grin. Not waiting for or expecting an answer, she turns her attention back to the jukebox and Phoebe's quarter.

    "You wonder...?" Jubilee presses her hands against the jukebox glass again, now wondering herself. On what? No clue.

John Constantine has posed:
    John at least looked like he was hanging on the edge of his stool awaiting the answer to his question. Wait, no he didn't. He was leaning one elbow on the bar with his hand supporting his head via a palm to his left cheek. "*Puppies*," he repeats quietly, but with just a hint of amusement there. One a scale of one to 'demons are chasing me', Dex's problem rates about a two on the danger scale of John Constantine. ...maybe a three.

    "So, let me get this absolutely straight in my head. You had a run-in with the completely and utterly *human* Joker and you thought it best to come look for the group that has run-ins with demons, evil necromancers... vampires... murderous animated stuffies... alien skin burrowing bugs of silence?"

    He raises his voice to call across the bar to Nigel-William, "Kid has *spunk* dun he?!" His attention turns directly back to Dex and he says, "Sure, why the bloody hell not!" A beat and he asks, "What exactly *is* it that you do though?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe pauses as she looks over to Dex out of the corner of her eyes, her eyes giving a slight narrow. Not like she MEANS to overhear -- but Joker is not... anything to joke about. She straightens up a moment. "It wasn't working the other night; someone jammed a... ah..." she flattens her expression as she looks to Jubilee, and she tilts her head back. "Someone jammed a rubber in there and I got skeeved by the possibility of it having been used." Phoebe states. Blood? Guts? Demons? No problem.

    The aftermath of thirty seconds of fun? Eeeeh.

    "Ordinarily that Bats would pick up on people who start their careers in Gotham." Phoebe quips louder. The quarter goes through. She flicks around a couple of the pages of tunes.

    Pause. "When did you fight plushes?!"

Dex Alruin has posed:
    As Constantine replies to him, Dex's eyes go wide. Extremely so with the slight magnification of his glasses. "W..." he starts, but loses his voice. Maybe he should've done more research after all. But at the same time...

    "You mean those things are real?" he asks, "I admit, I heard the name Night Brigade and thought 'agents moving in shadow', not 'demon hunters'. But... Yeah, my issue seems small compared to that, as does my tinkering talent."

    He shakes his head, but stays seated. Maybe this isn't so bad. After all, if these things WERE real, that... Well that would just leave him further agitated.

    "I'm a repairman, and a fast learner," he says, "I also dabble with hardlight technology. That's my main weapon, actually. But... You're serious? Demons? Vampires? Necromancers? Occult, in other words... and you say it's real?"

    There's suddenly a brightness in his eyes. "That seems a lot more important than street crime."

John Constantine has posed:
    John makes *sure* he's looking Dex right in the eyes when he lets loose a little Hellfire to dance in the pupils of those faded denim blues. "Nah, mate, not real atall," he replies. Could have been worse, he could have set both of his hands ablaze with the stuff.

    He calls out, "Hey, Buffy! Smile big for this bloke here, aye?" ...before his attention turns back to Dex and he gets a little more serious. "Yes, I'm bloody serious. My name's John Constantine. Exorcist by trade, petty dabbler in the rest of it." He actually extends his hand, provided his little display didn't send the kid scurrying. He nods toward the girls and mentions, "That's Jubilation," indicating 'Buffy', "...and that's Phoebe *Constantine*." Oh yes, he made sure it was clear... that's MY DAUGHTER, hands the fuck off.

Jubilation Lee has posed:
    Jubilation stares at Phoebe with a sour expression on her face. She turns slooooooowly towards the coin slot and frowns at it. "Eewwwwwwwwwwwww," she drones, dragging out her disgust until the moment she hears the metallic clink from the quarter reaching its destination. All the business about Jokers and Bats breezes right on past Jubilation. She's focused, instead, on the catalog of music flipping on by.

    "Did you win?" is Jubilee's follow-up to Phoebe's question, grinning again at John from across the pub. Any opportunity to lighten the mood, right? When called over, Jubilation shrugs her shoulders at Phoebe and walks back over to the bar. "Hi," she says, giving Dex a quick look-over before giving him a big smile.

    Jubilation has an unsettling kind of vibe about her, though not wholly unpleasant. She's unnervingly beautiful, moves with supernatural grace. Her porcelain skin is free of the usual teenager imperfections and her eyes are captivating, piercing even. Oh, and that 'big smile' Constantine is asking for? It reveals a set of razor sharp fangs.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe hits a couple buttons, and the Thin LIzzy version of "Whiskey in the Jar" gets queued up on the jukebox.

    As she's introduced, Phoebe gives a smile, and a nod of her head accompanied by a wave of her hand -- and then purses her lips with a 'really?' expression at John.

    "Phoebe Constantine, by any other name." she gives a smile, "Forgive me for not shaking hands -- recently had a hiccup and I'm still in 'make sure it's working right' time." she explains. "And don't knock the day-to-day crime fighting. We do that sometimes, just tend to be a little more focused on what others might not be prepared to handle." she smiles. "I'm originally from Gotham, I'm passingly familiar with the street crime fighting." she adds with an explaination to Dex. "So -- hard light technology?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "Puppies," John offers for the third time and with a slight shake of his head. He pours another glass of scotch, downs it in one quick motion. He doesn't wince, the burn vanished long ago either to just adjusting to it or maybe burning the nerve endings from the *so much* of it. He snatches his Silks and his lighter up, shoves both into a pocket and snuffs the cigarette he had lit out in the ashtray.

    "Well then, Dex the Repairman, 'fridge in the back is freezing stuff that isn't to be frozen, on the bottom. Mind the spaghetti sauce jars, it's not really sauce."

    He slides off the stool and pats the young man on the shoulder. "I'm late, woman's convinced her dead cat's haunting her after she backed over it in the driveway, wants me to fix it." EYEROLL, but it's cash and easy money unless it turns out the woman's house is haunted, but by something more sinister than a dead cat.

    "So, I'll leave you in the capable hands of Miss Jubilation and my *daughter*." Emphasis on that last just in case it wasn't crystal clear the first time.

    "Phoebe," he calls over, "Get him an amulet, bind it with a drop of his blood!"

    ...and then he's off toward the backroom rather than the front door, snagging a handful of stale pretzels from a bowl on the way.

Dex Alruin has posed:
    There's a paling in Dex's features as John lets Hellfire appear in his eyes, and now he can't move from the spot. His entire world had been shattered. Aliens, sure, that's fine. Mutants, that's okay. Magic, demons, Hell? THAT, at least, he had always thought was in the realm of fantasy. And yet, here it is, on display. Either John is an amazing master of illusion, or Dex had run into the one group he never thought existed in the first place.

    The tinkerer shakes the offered hand, his head turning to see the others as they are introduced. The stress on Phoebe's last name was clear, and he offers only a polite incline of his head in her direction.

    As Jubilation smiles at him, Dex recoils slightly. Fangs? "Holy..." he starts, then looks a bit out of sorts for a moment as he shakes his head. "Nice to meet you. I'm Dex Alruin," he says, offering a hand toward her. He then turns his attention back to John, color returning to his face. "I don't suppose... no, clearly what you guys have can't be learned, huh..." he shakes his head. "Well, I will find a way to make myself useful. I have my Proto-Shot for basic offense and defense, but... Well, it has seven shots that may or may not work every time..." he trails off, realizing how bad that sounds. "But I'm good at basic repairs, and can learn more complex stuff pretty fast! Just say the word and I'll get to work!"

    At Phoebe's statements, he nods, smiling. "Always been a dream of mine to help people in... less conventional ways. That's why I built my Proto-Shot. It projects light a lot like a laser, which is then 'hardened' into a more tangible form through..." he stops, then seems to ponder for a bit. "There's a lot to it. I don't want to bore you with the details."

Jubilation Lee has posed:
    Jubilation's hand goes into the air and flashes John a quick peace sign for his departure. "...See ya!" she calls out before turning back towards Phoebe and Dex. "I was supposed to ask him something!" She shrugs both shoulders and then hops up onto the bar, sitting on it and letting both legs dangle down. "Oh well!"

    When Dex offers to not bore them with the details, Jubilee relaxes her shoulders. "Oh, goooood!" she drones, grinning a little as she does. Just teasing. But then, she gets serious, if only for a moment.

    "Wait, what /kind/ of light?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    hey are *not* stale. They're fresh. Phoebe makes sure of it because she's a good barback.

    Phoebe gives a slight smile as she comes by and hops on the counter. She cleans it, she doesn't care if she sits on it.

    "Well, what she's got can't be learned. Some of what I've got can't be learned, but magic can be learned. If you have time time and patience to contend with it." Phoebe answers with a smile, and she leans back behind the counter, and then nimbly tucks and rolls off, coming to a crouch at the floor as she paws through a couple of boxes.

    "I'm a bit more scientifically-minded, I guess, than Dad is. I hung out with a lot of nerds before I moved to New York." she states, and she pulls out a raw sapphire pendant, wound about with copper wire, on a stout black band.

    She also brings out a sheet of paper and a sharpie, and begins to carefully scribe a circle on the paper.

    "What was the question, Jubes?"

Dex Alruin has posed:
    Dex smiles softly, shaking his head. "It runs on a solar battery, but the light itself is a strengthened and bound red laser, essentially. No need to worry," he offers, then blinks a bit as Phoebe mentions that magic can be learned. "It... it can? No prerequisites?"

    That may or may not pique his interests. What sort of things could he manage with magic?

    "I may have to look into that," he says softly, before watching as Phoebe returns with a pendant. He blinks, then remembers John's parting words. Drop of blood most importantly.

    "What is that for?" he asks, suddenly looking a bit more apprehensive.

Jubilation Lee has posed:
    "And he took the flyer, too!" Jubilee mock-pouts, pointing at the door that Constantine used to leave. She shrugs and turns towards Phoebe. "I found one of those Minor Arcana posters he's putting everywhere and wanted to see if Chas and Hot Topic could use some help that night." Jubilee grins at Nigel-William and shrugs. Hot Topic.

    "I realize I haven't shown up to work at Burger Joint since I died," Jubilee adds. "So, like, I'm free that night." Fired, in other words. Can the deceased be fired?

    Dex's apprehension about the drop of blood does not go ignored. "We keep it on file so we can clone you if we need a new one," Jubilation answers unceremoniously, looking down to inspect her fingernails.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Pretty sure if you show up and you tell Chas and Ni-William--" she looks apologetically at the bartender, who just sort of shrugs at the group of people at the far end of the bar "-- if you show up you'll at least be put on cleanup detail between sets." Phoebe gives a smile. "I'll probably be splitting time between cheering Dad and doing dishes."

    And then, to Dex:

    "Token for network access." Phoebe jokes. "Basically this amulet lets you in to the house next door, which there's a couple of rooms still for rent, and gives you access to help when you run afoul of something. Like you can grip it in your hands and say 'Reperio Me' -- and you location pings. And anyone from the Brigade can track you down if you need help -- or a quick escape!"

    Phoebe then also produces a pocket knife and a clean cloth, and a band-aid with unicorns on it.

    "The activation requires a drop of blood, to bind it to you so you can get in. It's a bit like an instant messenger, but magic."

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Maybe Paul ran into John outside, hard to say, but it's possible given that it's a short while after the other man left that he steps into the bar. He hasn't actually been here since moving state-side, and he pauses a moment just inside the door to look around, a faint smile coming to his lips.

    He's /about/ to go over to the bar, but then he spots Phoebe and decides to step to one side and sort of... hover apprehensively. In the middle of blood-taking is /not/ the time to see whether or not his boyfriend's daughter is going to punch him again. Not the introduction to the Night Brigade that poor Dax needs.

Dex Alruin has posed:
    Dex blanches at Jubilation's words, then seems to relax at Phoebe's much more rational explanation. At least as rational as he can imagine, still wrapping his head around this new source of knowledge.

    He offers a hand out, closing his eyes to try and brace himself for the pain, though his muscles seem to relax. If he doesn't know it's coming, he thinks, maybe that'll mute a knife prick.

     As he has his eyes squeezed shut, he misses the entrance of another person, his mind swirling and trying to blank at the same time leaving him scattered and unattentive.

Jubilation Lee has posed:
    Jubilee shrugs her shoulders. "I'll figure something out," she declares confidently. She hops down off of the bar top and turns away as Phoebe works on getting that blood from Dex, pretending like it doesn't interest her even in the slightest. "Alright," she announces, moving past Paul with a mock salute ("Officer!") and towards the table where she threw the bedsheet. "I better go next door, then. Get my beauty sleep," she explains, gathering up the bed sheet in both her hands.

    "See ya, Pheebs!" she says with a grin. "Oh, there's a condom in the jukebox, Dex!" With that settled, Jubilee throws the bedsheet over her head and stumbles out the door.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Just because she broke into the Laughing Magician, stole the funds from the till, went to Heathrow on a fake ID, tubed her way to Whitechapel, punched an angel, tubed her way to the Tower of London in order to take a selfie, purchased a 'Mind the Gap' T-shirt and then flew back to the US on the same fake ID doesn't mean she's going to punch Paul at every opportunity. That was a special occasion. And she genuinely felt awful about it.

    Phoebe's concentration, though, was on Dex, even as she throws a wave to Jubilee's besheeted exit -- and then gives a 'uurgh' face at the jukebox comment.

    "It's been removed." she explains, and with that, there's just a little poke of Dex's finger tip.

    Phoebe flips his wrist to put the smidge of blood to the amulet, and then slaps the bandaid on the fingertip like she's a pro and has totally done this more than once.

    Then there is a brief utter of an incantation, something in Latin about bonds and communication, a flash of light and the copper on the amulet gives a little glow, and then fades.

    "THere you are, Dex. Welcome to the Night Brigade."

    And then, finally, Phoebe gives a wave to P aul from behind the counter.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul gives Jubilee a mock salute in response, because this is actually a form of human interaction he mostly understands--he, too, has the intristic desire to mock authority or else he wouldn't even /be/ here. He'd still have his wings all nice and pretty and be off in whatever space 'Heaven' actually is doing angel things. Whatever angels do all the time.

    Then he waves to Phoebe. "Inducting a new recruit, I see," he comments, looking Dex over curiously.

Dex Alruin has posed:
    Dex winces slightly in his face, the rest of him holding steady. His eyes open, then he smirks and scratches the back of his head. That was embarrassing. He flexes his hand, then slips the amulet around his neck. "Thank you," he says, the amulet feeling like a weight. He could feel how much it meant, and would do what he could to earn it properly. As Jubilation makes her exit, under her sheet, he tilts his head a bit and then nods. "Right, sunlight," he says, then puzzles at how casual that sounded.

    What a strange couple of days.

    He turns toward Paul, offering a wave. "Hi. My name is Dex Alruin. Nice to meet you!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Dex, Paul Ramsey, a police detective. Paul, Dex. He's the new handyman." Phoebe introduces Dex with a sense of casual decorum, motioning to the techno-archer. She then rubs the leather strap over her left hand, and gives a slight smile to Paul. "And less induction, more 'Dad tasks'" she states. "If you're looking for him, he went to resolve an issue with a lady who thinks her cat is haunting her since she backed over it in the driveway. He's decently sure it'll be a quick job. Also, jukebox's fixed, so maybe we can play something *other* than My Way by Johnny Rotten on occasion." she states, with a flat expression.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    "I wasn't actually looking for him," Paul says easily. He generally knows where John is, most of the time. "I was intending to say hello to Chas, actually, but I see he's..." He peers over at Nigel-William-whatever his actual name is. Mutters something under his breath about never being able to tell ages on sight.

    "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Dex." He has an odd air about him, a bit off-putting. Maybe it's the 'police detective' thing. He goes over to look down at the jukebox, considering.

    "...Are the amulets being given to everyone who works here, or are you more than a handyman, Dex?"

Dex Alruin has posed:
    Dex offers a small incline of his head toward Paul, smiling a bit as he looks around. The smile fades as he glances over at Paul at the jukebox, though, the closer distance giving the archer a bit of a chill down his spine.

    Odd.

    He glances over at the jukebox, then at Phoebe, opening his mouth as though to ask a question but lets it fall away. Clearly THAT problem was no longer a problem. He dusts his hands out of sheer reflex, then shrugs. "I hope not to be just a handyman, but right now I'm on repairs. Speaking of, is there... anything..." he starts, then falls into a nearby chair, eyes drooping. "Oh man... what day is it?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... Weeeednesday?" Phoebe asks, questioning herself. "I used to tell the days by what was on TV, but uh... haven't watched TV for a long time." she states, and she exhales. "I can't even depend on downtime because goodness knows that the giant scorpion of death was only last week?" she inquires, and she crosses her arms. Typically she only barbacks when Chas or John are in... which means when Chas is in. Otherwise she cuts up the fruit upstairs where police can't judge her on her knife skills.

    William, as it is, is totally old enough to bartend. Phoebe checked.

    "Well, Chas isn't in yet, I didn't see him upstairs when I stopped to clear out my closet space." she comments, and she gives a smile to Paul.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    "Clear out your closet space...? Ahh, yes. The Curio. I hear you are getting John's old flat?" Paul smiles, and puts 'Teach Your Children Well' by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young on play on the jukebox.

    He then turns to regard Dex. "It's Wednesday," he says. "And that's fine," he replies to Phoebe. "I... should be more sociable, in general. Get to know people like the new bartender and the handyman. Who looks... tired, perhaps?"

Dex Alruin has posed:
    The handyman sags in his chair, rubbing his cheeks. "Wednesday. That means I've been up... over 48 hours. Great. Awesome," he says, shaking his head, "Got anything that serves as a pick-me-up?" As the jukebox starts a new song, Dex closes his eyes, bobbing his head to the rhythm. Or so it seems, until he loses it. And then stops moving, chin tucked into his chest.

    His breathing is even, but his eyes are, oddly enough, opened back up.

John Constantine has posed:
    They might as well rename him Saint Nick with all the clatter John seems to make upon his entrance to the backroom most days after a side job.

    BANG. CLATTER. CRASH. SHATTER. "CHAS!"

    Uh-oh.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "John and Chas's. Though I can't imagine them sharing a one bed-- you know what," Phoebe's ears darken. "I'm going to stop that thought in its tracks." she murmurs, and looks over to Dex "Ah. I can get you a coffee? I have a couple of Rainbow Unicorn energy drinks in the back--" she trails off, and she looks to Dex, with his eyes open and his chin down, hopping over the bar (she should REALLY not do that, some day she's going to knock something over!).

    "You should be more sociable. It's nice to have you around." she smiles. "In spite of... uh... my travel bug." she adds on, and has the good grace to look embarrassed before -- BANG. CLATTER. CRASH.

    "Oh no--" she whispers, and she goes from Dex (he'll be fine) to the back door marked PRIVATE, and she goes to crack it open.

    "He's not down yet -- can I help? Paul's here too--"

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul sighs at the man, falling asleep in the chair. He /wants/ to say 'bundle him into the hotel room' but he just met the poor guy. Dex doesn't need a (former) angel mother hen'ing him just yet.

    "Are you alright, John?" Paul calls, walking over to peer toward the back room as well.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's standing near that big oak table with his hands pressed against it palms down, head hanging down and just making the most irritated, yet somehow still portraying the 'this blood hurts' part sound at the back of his throat. When Phoebe cracks that door open and he turns around, his face is *covered* in scratches, one eye's shut with a scratch that starts at his eyebrow, crosses the actual eyelid and hits the cheek below it.

    His shirt's just about shredded in the front and his chest covered with the same scratches.

    Before anyone even has the chance to ask, he's grousing. "It was her bloody fucking cat, it just wasn't bloody fucking *DEAD*. Stupid bird buried it in a two foot grave in the back yard *thinking* it was dead. It clawed out when it came to. It was a fucking *SAVANNAH CAT*." Big cats those. "I found it hiding in the basement, yowling from time to time... because it was still *ALIVE*."

    ...and from the looks of John, not happy when he snatched it up to put it in a carrier for the crazy woman.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas comes in from the street carrying... a number of brown unmarked bags. He stops and blinks at the number of people in his bar. "Oh... actual..." he stops and notices a familiar face that he hasn't seen in a while. "Paul?" he says with a smile. "How are you mate?" he says stepping into the bar and shutting the door behind him with his boot.

    "Been a damn minute since you've come around here." He catches a few grumbles of John from the backroom and arches a brow. "Oh no. What'd you do this time, John?" he asks, his voice a bit louder to carry over the jukebox and distance. It might just be loud enough to wake the sleeping patron as well. Chas' voice could boom when he wanted it to.

Dex Alruin has posed:
    Dex, for his part, gives a small snort, but otherwise remains tucked into his chest, snoring lightly as his eyes finally droop closed. He actually looks quite stable in that chair, but it's clear to anyone that he is GONE.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Hi Dad!" Phoebe states over her shoulder as Chas walks in with the bags and everything to find his bar partially staffed with poor Nig-- WILLIAM. His name is William. Poor kid! -- and John grousing in the back, the new handyman and repair guy passed out, and Phoebe slipping into the backroom to tend to John.

    "She... did not mention that the cat was an exotic." Phoebe mutters, and she reaches out to try and turn John. "Those could get infected pretty easily -- do you want me to grab the first aid kit and clean these up?" she offers. Actual first aid kit, not her magic touch. "Chas just got here. Dex's passed out in a booth asleep."

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul... is /not/ going to laugh at John in public. He's got enough self-control for that. He does comment, however, "I think the Father made cats in order to test our patience and remind us to have humility. Much like humans, I suppose."

    He's going on into the room, however, and comments to Chas as he goes, "I'm doing alright. Settling into the new precinct."

    Once in the back room, he stands a little ways back from Phoebe, looking over the wounds. "I could soothe the cuts as well, if you'd like, love." It's not anything that came from magic use, so it doesn't get into John's personal feelings about getting something for nothing.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I was on a fucking, *job*, Chas, so we can keep the bloody lights on, that's what!" John calls back. Demons, vampires, evil spirits, werewolves? Yes, he's typically equipped for those, but house cats the size of a foxhound? Yeah, not so much equipped to deal with. He's not bloody animal control!

    Of course it's probably the weeping with relief old lady that wouldn't stop hugging him AFTER he got the cat into the carrier for a trip to the vet that has him more cranky than those scratches.


    "Fucking CATS."

    "Yes, please," he bites out. To Paul or Phoebe? It's... hard to say really. "I need a drink..." or twelve.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas moves to set the bags behind the bar. "And we're doing animal control now?" he asks. "Not to salt the wound, man, but that's a bit out of your wheelhouse isn't it?" he asks, pouring himself a drink of water. Actual water this time, not Everclear. "That seems a lot less... monster stroke ghoul focused than our usual fare."

    He moves over the back room and takes a look over the gathering there. He is far and away the tallest guy in the building and can easily see to his friend. "A single cat did all that?" he asks his eyes widening at the extent of the man's damages.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Ordinary cats maybe -- Savannahs are a half-step away from wild." Phoebe comments back to Paul, and And Phoebe would argue it's not something for nothing. John gave her a safe space before he even really knew her. LEAST she can do is keep him running. "She thought she ran over and killed it, and it was haunting her." Phoebe repeats for Chas's benefit, and she pushes up the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "And they're huge. Like, almost grayhound-sized-- sit down." she states to John, not liking everyone crowding around. "Let me take care of it before you bleed out through all these--" she mumbles, and she holds her hands up, looking for John's permission. It's not something for nothing. She wants to help. "Make sure you're set to go for everyone crowding around and the hug brigade making their way through." she jokes.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul sighs. He could get rid of the scratches much faster than Phoebe's first aid kit--though much /slower/ than Phoebe's own healing powers--but he understands the girl's desire to help, and so he stands back a bit to let her. He can always heal the wounds later if John wants him to.

    "I'm keeping an eye out for business down in Gotham that might help to pay the bills," he says. "Something the police can't really get involved with. I don't know what the Gotham PD would think about consulting fees, given the city's history with... I think they call them 'capes'?" He shrugs. "Anyway, I'm hoping I can find something that isn't 'old lady and her cat' for you."

John Constantine has posed:
    Something for nothing isn't... really the point. It's no price for magic that's the sticking point with John and angry Savannah cats aren't magical nor did he do anything magical on this job. Well, other than not strangling a crazy little old lady in the aftermath, that was magical.

    Normally he'd likely allow it with this one, but...

    "Phoebe, we don't know if you're..." He shifts his attention to Paul and then back to Phoebe. "...have you tried this on anyone other than yourself since..."

    He can't bring himself to actually talk about that night, but everyone knows where the sentence was going before it dropped off. "Should we let Paulie handle some of it first?"

    "I catch consulting cases with the NYPD all the time, love." The recent Mum Murderer case being one of them. "The pay *sucks* compared to the private sector and I can't imagine Gotham would be any better. But if you can find things that aren't PD related."

    He sniffs... his own coat and groans. "I smell like blue hair and pocket butterscotch."

    ...from the *hugging*.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas shakes his head. "I swear, you'd think that the clientelle would lean toward middle-aged Karens in the US but somehow you still drag in the old bats" he says and then frowns. "Look, Phoebe... it might be better to let Paul take care of this one... since... well..." The girl's cousin was still out there somewhere and they were still uncertain if one of Phoebe's last name was more literal than intended.

    His suggestion out of the way he asks John the question on his mind. "Oh... right, John. Do we still have that Zweihander at the House? The authentic one from the Middle Ages?" A simple, if strange question to ask... but Chas *might* have a decent reason for wanting to know. Maybe.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe looks up at John, and her dark eyes show a little bit of hurt before she bites the inside of her cheek as she slowly drops her hands, looking from John, to Chas, and then to Paul. Her ears turn darker, her cheeks showing her embarrassment, and she shakes her head, taking a couple steps back so that Paul can work, until her heel hits the base moulding in the room.She crosses her arms a moment, and gives a small shrug as she leans against the wall.

    "It'd be difficult to get anything out of Gotham. Anything out of the ordinary Commissioner Gordon probably sends up to the Bats. Zatanna has a good relationship with the Gotham vigilantes. If there was something they couldn't handle, she'd probably be the one to contact." she points out quietly.

    Leave it to the Gotham Kid to know the skinny.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    "New York doesn't have the Batman running about," Paul says with the faintest hint of... amusement, maybe? "I'm going to look into it, love, but I /am/ focusing more on the private sector. Better pay, and usually more in your wheelhouse, so to speak. But I will speak to Zatanna, perhaps, as well."

    He looks to Phoebe, as if he wants to say something but isn't sure just what or how or if he even should. Children are easy, adults are harder, but /teenagers/... angels never had the weird awkward adolescent stage, and they've always confused him a little.

    So Paul will let the Dads address the embarrassment, and steps forward to take John's hands in his own. There's a soft, warm glow--not nearly so bright as Phoebe's but there, and the warmth spreads through John, slowly, slowly, as it heals the cuts and scrapes, neutralizes any lurking infection.

    "I like butterscotch," he says to John with a smile. "If she tucked one away I'll gladly take it from you. It's one of the few things I miss about being a constable." Look, /some/ people appreciate treats from old ladies.

John Constantine has posed:
    "She's warded up against all that, Chas," John points out. He lets out a sigh at the girl's reaction and says, "Just... let him get me most the way there and then we can see if you're back to rights?"

    Then Paul has his hands and he gives Angel (former) hands a little squeeze. He closes his eyes and gives that little shake of his head, teeth gritted. It's not their first rodeo, they've done this many times before. It's not as warm and fuzzy for John as it might be for others. It burns a touch, setting the demon blood in his veins all into a frenzied panic. But if it's slow enough, toned down enough, the end result is worth it.

    It *might* be a reminder that if something's off with the girl's gifts, she might just fry her old man alive. Best to be small and safe than sorry for the first run, innit?

    "It's in my closet," he replies to Chas, through those gritted teeth. "Why do you need that thing?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas gives Phoebe a frown. "Still better to be safe than sorry, love" he says and then looks to John. "Oh..." he replies with mock innocence. "No... No reason. Just..."

    His own cheeks redden and then he sighs. "Authenticity for a costume, okay?" he says, his tone exasperated. "If I'm going to look the part of a Norse Berserker, it'd be nice if all my gear was authentic. I managed to find somone uptown who had the proper bear-skin cloak and fur trousers. The belt was easy enough to get. And my chest is hairy enough to pass the Viking test."

    He looks aside. "Just... I don't want some 17th century greatsword if I *know* there is the real thing in our possesion."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "It's fine. Who knows if everything got braided up again and I blast you with Holy and Light instead of heal and set your lungs on fire or grow teeth from between your toes or retroactively destroy a ward and give you warts or something." Phoebe states from her place on the wall with a nonchalant shrug. "It's /fine/." she adds to Chas, "And you're right. It is better safe than sorry. I'll just -- make sure Dex hasn't made off with the peanutbutter pretzels or something." she motions, and turns to see herself out.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    "I wouldn't suggest any of the methods the /berserkir/ used to enter their battle trance," Paul says in an amused tone, to Chas. "I'm certain John has the plants some of them used, but..."

    He watches Phoebe go with a brief frown, then turns back to focus on what he's doing. Make it slow enough not to hurt. He sighs. "She's too much like her father, I think," he says with raised eyebrows at John. "Eager to help, unwilling to accept her limits."

John Constantine has posed:
    "That thing's spelled, mate. Make sure you don't say 'Take Me Back' in Old Norse while carrying it." Like anyone ever would just do that randomly in a conversation? Better safe than sorry, innit?

    John pokes his tongue out at Paul and makes brattiest little 'nnnn, whatever' face complete with a shake of his head from side to side.

    "I know my limits, love. ...and I know how far past them I can manage to go and stay alive." Sometimes, most of the time, it's been awhile since he actually *died*, at least two months.

    His attention shifts to Chas, brow furrowed a little, but not in a bad way, more contemplative. He snorts out a laugh. "What's the bird's name, Chas?"

    Then his faded denim blues track Phoebe's departure. "She saw it, Chas... *it*, what I showed you." Lordy but the guilt in those eyes and his expression. "Her and Zatanna. Bit of a botch during the mental part of the Curio warding."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "Jesu--" Chas starts before looking at Paul with a hesitant expression. "Geez..." he amends, "really?" He runs a hand though his hair. "I... should probably talk to her, huh?" he says. On account that he knows when John gets as guilty as he looks, he's likely not going to feel up to talking beyond a quick apology. "Zatanna could probably handle it... woman's got Power and will with a capital PW... but..." he turns and nods. "I can handle it."

    He also handily avoids having the tell John a word about the woman he may or may not be seeing. Handy that. He moves to follow after Phoebe. "Hon... wait up..." he says, his long steps easily catching up to the much shorter young woman.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe had stepped out of the room, she had checked on Dex, peacefully snoozing in a booth, and she had gripped up the paper circle that was left on the counter, and disposed of it in the trashcan. Sort out a box of straws. Checks on the peanutbutter pretzels (which is fine, and quite in date, thank you very much), and she pauses, looking over her shoulder at Chas as he comes out of the back room.

    "It's fine, really. I get it. It's not predictable and it's not precisely ethical to test it out on anyone." she tries to head off an uncomfortable conversation.

    She may be a bit more like John than she thinks.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul lifts his brows. "I said /accept/ her limits, not /know/ them." It's a gentle teasing, though. The healing should be done by now, but he rounds out the wve of healing power, just in case, before he lets go of John's hands. Just briefly, more of a firm 'and now I'm done' than anything else.

    He frowns down at John. "It's bothering you... a lot, isn't it?" He doesn't want to talk about it much, himself. How he could barely feel John during that time, how there was a period when he thought John might be dead.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Yeah, it is, love, more than it should be." But John leaves it at that and leans in for a kiss. It's not 'get a room', but it's not quick. It's just sweet and a little lingering since they're alone back there. When he pulls back he adds, "It'll shake out."

    But just the mention of it all would be enough to maybe even have Paul reeling a little from the feelings it pulls up in John. That alone-ness and confusion over what's real and what isn't. He *starts* to add, 'I'm fine...' and gets as far as the "I'm f..." before he remembers their deal. Better to not talk about it if he's not ready than to lie about it, innit?

    Deep breath and, "I'm not okay, Paulie, but this isn't... the time or the place."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas steps next to Phoebe and shakes his head. "That's not what I want to talk to you about, Little Lighthouse" he says with a fond smile. "John told me you... you saw what he went through in Hel. You experienced it... I just... I want to make sure you're okay." He knows he wasn't after he experienced it in stereo-surrund sound. He places a hand on the girl's shoulder--the one that wasn't injured--and gives it a strong, comforting squeeze.

    "And as for that..." he looks behind him to the backroom. "Don't ever think that I doubt your power or control... okay? It's not that. At all. I'd trust you with his life," just as he trusts John with Phoebe's, "it's just... John's a bit of a special case with all the different effects flowing on him, right now. Using your power on him might be a bit more explosive than we can anticipate. Literally. Not because of *you.* But because of *him.*"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... the reader's digest version. Him in the dark." Phoebe replies, and tries to shake off her own experience. That she saw and felt his emotions when the wraith tried to rip out her heart through the side of her body. Not knowing if she was going to live through a most-ill-guided attempt to get him out. The girl pauses a moment, and looks up to Chas as he squeezes on her right shoulder.

    "I don't think I've been okay for a long time," she comments back to him, and raises her hand -- and then draws it back down. Hesitant now. "But that... I mean... i know how it feels, kind of. I just didn't... I watched and felt what he did when he saw me get hurt." and she breathes out "And then he pushed me away. 'Cause I'm a kid. Heck do I know." she mutters, and just crosses her arms, hugging herself and tries to organize her thoughts.

    "It's different, though. My whole identity was wrapped around being able to heal people. Being able to make things better, to fix them. Maybe they don't work anymore. Maybe it's punishment for not healing Caroline. I didn't even think about what it would do if I accidentally..."

    "... he's always going to push me away. I should just get used to it." she breathes out, turning away from Chas as her shoulders go slack. "No use making a fuss about it."

    The amazing things about kids, sometimes they open their mouths and the other parent comes out of it.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul returns the kiss softly, lets it linger, then pulls back and nods. "I understand," he says. And he does. He's seen people suffering, knows how hard it is to heal. "Whenever you're ready."

    He has to take a moment. A long, deep breath in and then back out. He rolls his shoulders. The feelings were... not fun to experience, no. He glances aside, out the door, frowns slightly. Chas is taking care of /that/ pain.

John Constantine has posed:
    "It's not... I'm ready, Paulie. Just here might not be the place." John's gaze drifts to the door. "I can't believe I fuckin' *did* that. Bloody paint smudge on my forehead. I know better, I don't make those stupid mistakes. I *don't*." Or at least he didn't. "She was never meant to..."

    He huffs in a breath and blows it out in a way that makes little a loud raspberry sort of sound. He reaches out to catch on of Paul's hands in his own to swing it a little. "Anyway, how's Gotham PD, love?" he asks, changing the subject but not in the way he might with someone else, not in the 'we're not talking about this ever' way, just 'we're putting that on pause in this moment. "You haven't seen the Curio yet. Need to show you that, aye?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas has to be patient. He can't just take his daughter and shake her as he might John. "Phoebe... you're not broken... and you're not cursed. And..." He decides to take a firm stance. "And you're not John. What happened to you wasn't punishment. Wasn't karma. It was the maliscious act of a crazy bitch who wants to use you for her own ends."

    He tries to get her to face him, if she lets him and says, "He pushes people away because he's afraid of what will happen if they end up dying on him. He even does it to me because another 30 or so and I might be gone for good..."

    He taps at his chest. "What we have to do... to show him that we love him is push harder back. Force the issue if we have to. Make him know that no matter how much he pushes us away... we're not gone."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe does turn then.

    "Do you think I don't? I just stand there when he becomes a hurricaine and wait for everything to blow over, because what else *can* I do? Even if my aura wasn't bound, it wouldn't work on him. It wouldn't make him safe. It'd just make him paranoid that I was trying to affect him." she scratches at the leather over the circle as she talks. Nervous tic. "And no. She meant to kill me. Or destroy my body because even /Set/ said as long as one of us alive no one between me and the original person who held this spark can go to the afterlife, so she could still use me. And I lived and now I don't know if my powers even work correctly or if I put others in danger. The necklace was supposed to fix it, but it's not like I can go about breaking noses and making sure they don't heal crooked for /fun/."

    Her hands rise up, and she presses against the sides of her head "And I know he loves me. I *know* he's proud of me. Every once in a while I can see him trying to puzzle out if it's even worth trying to say anything, but he doesn't, because he's never been shown how, and now it's like some sort of stupid weakness for him. But I watch Jubilee hop up right next to him at the bar. I can't even do that, and he calls me his /daughter/? To a /god/?" she breathes out. Tears threaten at her eyes. "And now the one thing I've ever been better at than almost anyone, I'm scared to do because what if it *hurts*? What if I can't control it? Then what use am I to anyone?" she huffs, and then she just brings her hands down and digs the heels of her palms into her eyes.

    "I'm sorry -- I'm sorry. I must still just be wiped out."

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul smiles and squeezes John's hand. "I have not, though I /think/ you showed me the building, before? But I haven't seen what you've made of it now. As for Gotham PD...?" He frowns thoughtfully. "It's /different/. Gotham is... unique. Though maybe that's partly that I'm used to a place covered in security cameras. If Gotham were as surveilled as London, none of these masked vigilantes or villains would stay anonymous for long."

John Constantine has posed:
    "I have some crime scene photos and a case file I want you to take a look at later. Murdered mum, in a pantry of all things, locked from the inside. It was warded. I think it was a magical panic room for her or something. But the husband was sincere and *clueless* when I started hinting a things outside the normal. I know *what* got her, but it feels like there's a why missing. I just want to see if I'm missing anything from the other side of it." The more mundane side. It's not like Paul isn't intimate with John's side, but it is Paul that deals more with the 'normal' stuff.

    He releases Paul's hand so he can stretch his arms over his head. "Ngggg, I need to change my shirt, aye?" With the current one being all shredded and bloody. "Oh, hey... Been jammin' with a new band, well... we've had one practice session so far."

    Such easy, casual conversation. It'd have to be weird to anyone that happened to be listening... coming from John.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    While John might not be used to having a loving home life, Chas' childhood wasn't nearly as traumatic. He knows what a loving parent should do and he does just that. He leans forward and envelopes his oldest daughter in a massive hug. "You're not useless. And quit beating yourself up" he says softly to her as he pulls slightly away.

    "As for your powers... maybe don't try it on John... but..." He grabs a sharp paring knife that he uses for cutting garnishes for some of the fruity drinks he makes on rare occasions that he gets the orders.

    With almost practiced precision and far more speed than a man his size has any right to have, he draws an cut along his palm. It's not very deep, but it bleeds just the same. "How about you practice on someone who isn't a mystical cocktail and who has thirty-something lives to spare for his daughter?" he says holding out his hand to the girl.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe, ordinarily, after her own traumatic experience with a now-dead man by the name of Mickey Rogers, does not like being touched. Even her closest friends usually get a 'lean against' -- but Chas was different. Chas was a rock, a grounding point that she could hold to when everything else was a malestrom. And that's why Chas is allowed to hug her. And why she sniffles, and hugs back against him, and takes a deep breath to try and center.

    Which is why when he pulls back, and then cuts his palm, she gawks a moment and then grabs at Chas's hand.

    "No, no -- you don't -- that's not cool!" she complains, and she brings her hands up, curling them against Chas's huge hand, the juxtaposition of her dark fingers against his hand showing as she gives a soft 'Seriously, you're supposed to be the non-dramatic one!' in a whisper, still teary.

    BUt Chas would feel it. Her healing is cool, like stepping out of the sun and into the shade. Jangled nerves (though who knows how shot the ones in any of their palms are by this point?) are soothed. Vessels knit. Dermis and epidermis knit, muscles resolving and nary a new scar on the big man's palm showing.

    "You already wasted a life for meonce. Don't... don't do that. Please." she whispers.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    "The new band have a name?" Paul glances at the door again; he can't /quite/ tell what's going on but he can sense the emotions anyhow. Then he focuses back on John.

    "I'd be glad to give the file a look over." Then he smirks, fondly. "And... you're going to run out of those interchangable shirts and ties if you're not careful, Johnny."

John Constantine has posed:
    "I have auto-shipment set up for every three months on Amazon," John drolls. He might be serious, he's probably not though. "I thought you'd say that," he offers along with a crooked little grin. It only curls the left side of his mouth, but it reaches both eyes. He steps away from Paul and pulls a file folder - manilla thing marked NYPD - off the counter. That he came by legally, unlike the flesh from the woman's wounds. Some things they do allow consultants access to.

    "The photos aren't that bad," he murmurs quietly. And they're not comparatively. Other than them being of a dead woman, they're really pretty easy to look at in the grand scheme of all the things. It's hard to say from the photos just what killed the woman and the official cause of death is heart attack. The only wounds are on her forearms, about the size of golf balls; they looked like something was ... sucking on her?

    "Deceased's name is Chelsea Montague," he adds before coming back to Paul's question. "Major Arcana, for now, not sure if that's stuck yet or not."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas smiles as he feels the healing energy course through him. "And that's why I'm not stuffing the knife in my chest" he says. "Baby steps." As the wound closes fully without even a scar he holds it before her. "Looks like it's still working to me."

    "I trust you my Little Lighthouse. And if being a guinea pig for you to test your healing powers is a thing I can do to help you... then I will gladly do it." He cups her face with the hand she healed. "It's the least I can do."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a slight smile, and she leans her head into Chas's hand. It's no lie when she tells people how thankful she is to have adults in her life who understand that magic is scary, and this whole life was terrifying, but it helps when you have people who can understand.

    "Yeah, looks like it's still working. Thank goodness. I'd *hate* to have another existential crisis before the New Year." she states wryly, and she takes a deep, centering breath.

    "Hoookay. I'm okay."

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul takes the file and frowns as he begins to look it over. He'll be doing that for a little bit; he's not magically fast or hyper-intelligent or anything. Smart enough, but at the level of a /normal/ excellent detective. So he has to actually rifle through the papers, look them over, consider things.

John Constantine has posed:
    While Paul's busy looking over the files, John busies himself with paging through a book he's more suited to deal with, looking over demons for potential answers in other areas. "You still want a place next door, love?" he asks at some point amid all the page flipping and his own note taking. "...or have you come to terms with..."

    Living in the creepy sentient House that's a manifestation of the home of the first murderer?

    "... the current arrangement?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods. "You sure?" he says. He trusts her though and nods, tossing the knife into the sink. He'll wash it later. After another quick, less rib-crushing hug he looks at the sleeping guy in the booth. "You know there's essentially a hotel next door, right?" he says to the young woman. "Why is he asleep in my bar then? And for that matter, who is he?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well, no, but then again--" Phoebe gives a slight shrug, and a theatrical wince. "As close as I am going to be at the moment?" she offers, and then she looks over to the sleeping Dex.

    "Oh, sorry -- Dex. He's the new handyman. John hired him, and had me activate an amulet for him. He kinda passed out asleep after Paul came in." she replies, and rubs the back of her neck, and then her left wrist, rubbing against the dog collar wrapped around.

    "Pretty sure he'll be fine."

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul sighs. "I am not going to get used to the current arrangement, Johnny. I love you, but... but that House is..." Is the creepy sentient House that's a manifestation of the home of the first murderer, okay? Being /okay/ with that House would spell trouble for Paul, or at least /he/ thinks so.

    His brows furrow as he goes over the file, less distracted by all the emotion in the other room. "Her middle name was Renee," he says slowly.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Then we'll set up place next door." One that isn't the basement John claimed. "You can pick an empty tomorrow or something."

    At first it doesn't click. So... there are lots and lots of Renee's in the world, right? It's not as if John and Renee ever got on enough that he'd be particularly inclined to remember her as anything but Renee *Chandler*, his best mate's ex.

    It takes a beat for the 'what' memories to hit the 'name' head on, but when they do he shoves himself to his feet. "Bloody Hell, bloody *fucking* Hell," he stammers. Maybe it's just all a great big coincidence, but... maybe it's not. "But we *killed* that thing."

    Still yet, "CHAS!" he calls before he even jerks the door open to the bar proper. "Call Renee! Tell her to pull Sprout from school for a week or so, take time off work herself and *stay inside*... or better yet, see if you can get her to come here. She can take your room, you can stay in Phoebe's old one."

    It's not as if Renee's home isn't warded six to Sunday by John Constantine, but it'll be better to have eyes on them, right?

    If Renee will agree to it and that's a big giant *if*.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas is processing why John hired a handyman when the man calls his name and gives him instructions. "What?" he asks, turning to look at the back room. "What makes you think she'll even agree to that? Especially without reason..."

    He frowns and adds. "For that matter, what reason do *I* have to do that? Geraldine's in school and taking her out right now might screw up her grades." Like a concerned father ought to be, he's worried about his daughter's grades in school. Mundane matters are a lot easier for him to handle when it comes to Renee and Geraldine.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe just gives a shrug, but at the idea tagging along on the back end of John's statement, her defensive meter kicks up.

    "-- if he wants to move Renee here, must be bad." she remarks, mostly to herself, and she takes a deep breath, rubbing the back of her head quietly as she follows behind.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Just *do it*, mate." It's John's tone, it's that sort of wild, manic thing it becomes when there's trouble brewing that could be an immediate danger to *his*. Little Sprout is undoubtedly *his* and Renee is by proxy, right. "I'll explain in a minute."

    In one fell swoop, his arm knocks anything that was on that big table in the back off it to make room for the Giant Ass Map he pulls out. Pendant found in a drawer. The scrying begins and... over ten minutes later he's winging that pendant across the room in frustration. "Fuck, I've *lost* it." The thing he found just the other night is ... nowhere to be found tonight, not anywhere on that Giant Ass Map of the *world*. Not Liverpool where it was, not here in New York, not in the Alaskan Tundra, not in the Sahara Desert. He can't find it.

    ...and the panic is building in him like a tidal wave that might, if he weren't pretty damned steady in the face of JohnPanic normally, knock Paul off is feet when it hits.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas moves to a phone while Jon works his will in the back and makes a phone call. "I got her voicemail. Gave her the instructions and told her to call me back..." he says as he too moves to the back room. "Now for the love of G--" he glances at Paul again, "Pete, will you tell me what's going on?"

    He sounds mildly impatient but there is a normalcy, a comfort, in the song and dance: John says something, Chas questions, John says do it and does more, Chas does it, and then gets the reason. It was familiar. It was comfortable.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul rolls his eyes at Chas, but most of his focus is on John. "Can you get some, ahh... he's going to need food he can eat without thinking about it," he says. He's going through it in his head, all the things he'll need to do in order to take care of John through this burst of manic energy, this panic.

John Constantine has posed:
    All those books he just swept to the floor, John's on his knees now, picking them up one at a time and tossing them aside until he lands on the right one. He flips it open to a place he has marked with a post-it.

    "Do you remember this thing?" he asks in a *do you* insistent tone as he turns the book toward Chas.

    It looks like a man in the picture, or it would look like just a man if it wasn't for the sucker fish looking thing sprouting forth from its forehead with a mouth about the size of a golf ball. Skin walker demon of sorts, that ... well, sucks the memories from its victim leaving them in a permanent vegetative state with that sucker fish mouth.

    It was *years* ago, pre-Astra, they were both just dipping toes into the Occult deep end when they cornered one of those things, in a warehouse in Liverpool. It managed to get its sucker mouth attached to John's head before Chas shot through the appendage, severing the connection and they *burned* it. It's *dead* or should be.

    "One of these is what killed the mum, the murder I've been working on with the NYPD. Her name is Chelsea Montague, but ...her middle name is Renee."

    Book gets tossed aside and he snags the pendant he just threw against the wall up again. "...and now I can't *find* it. It's hidden, the scrying isn't working."

    Even with the boost the wards in this particular room gives spells like that, the scrying isn't *working*. "It's hopped people. It's not Chelsea Renee Montague anymore," he mutters to himself. "Bloody fucking *hell*."

    Paul's food comment... not even noticed, but Paul is probably not wrong. It's either get him to calm the fuck down or ride the panic wave with him. Of course the panic wave often times leads to a bigger Wave and that's... not always a Bad Thing.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas blinks. "Renee Montague... that's... Renee's maiden name" he says softly. He *did* remember the Mind-sucker. "You think there's another one and now it's after... Renee?" His own gaze was wild at this point. "And you don't know where it's gone because it's jumped already...?"

    He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. "Why couldn't you *say* that before!? Christ!" Paul's presence can't overcome his worry now. "I have to... I have to get ahold of her." He withdraws a cellphone and dials a number frantically.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul sighs at Chas' own panic, and goes to make food himself. Two plates, one for each made, or fruits and vegetables and meat and cheese. Easily to pick up, easy to eat. After a moment's thought he makes sure they both have water, too.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Because I was *trying* to *find it*," John points out, irritation coloring his words, but Chas knows him well enough by now to know that irritation isn't leveled at him.

    "It was in Liverpool last night. Why... why did... Liverpool. Paulie!" The angel's name is barked out, but it's more like a sudden epiphany sort of bark. "Can you check with your contacts back over the pond? Find out if there have been any deaths or recent... coma patients with marks like that?" He digs up the photo from the case file and points to the woman's arms. "Maybe we can find a new name." It's a start.

    Water! Paulie, c'mon.

    "I still have a tissue sample from the other woman, with that thing's saliva from the wounds. But it's easier with a *name* to attach to the... I can try it again without the name but..."

    It'll require a shortcut. Or twelve.

    First thing's first though, he waits to see if Chas manages to get a hold of his ex-wife.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas listens to the phone and speaks into it in hushed tones. After a few moments he hands up and walks back to the back room, his expression is almost one of pouting. "She's not happy. She's *really* not happy. But she's on her way... I'm paying for it, apparently."

    He shrugs. "She's also going to stay in a hotel. She doesn't want Geraldine to be living above a bar of all things." He sighs. "I... have to agree with her there. She will tell me when she gets in town where she's staying."

    He looks a the book and the picture. "We killed it. Burned it. A mate? Partner? Do those things even have partners?" he asks. "I... I need..." he shakes his head, uncertian of what he needs.

John Constantine has posed:
    "She can stay next door, Chas. They have to be behind my wards. Either home or here." John's brow furrows and he barely keeps the (not aimed at Chas) snip from his voice when he says, "You need to go get Sprout." ...and Renee, it's a package deal, innit? "Get them here safe, get them set up next door. Or she's going to have to put up with me warding her hotel room, aye?"

    He takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before letting it out slowly. "I dunno, mate. All I know is that they're secretive and elusive. ...and we've only ever dealt with the one."

    He snatches, without thinking about it in the slightest, a piece of cheese off that plate and eats it. Then a carrot... a piece of apple. So far his body isn't rejecting the relatively healthy food. "Just go get'm, mate. Drag her screaming if you have to, she can blame it on me after." Especially if this all turns out to be for *nothing*.

    "I need a minute with Paulie anyway."

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul relaxes at the news that the woman is going to come and bring her daughter and be safe. He watches John eating and relaxes more. Still worried, but... less to worry /about/.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods. "I've got some things to take up to the loft and then... I'm going to catch a few winks... if I can." He grabs the two bags from behind the bar and looks to the pair. "It was nice to see you again Paul. John, I'll be in touch, keep your phone near. Okay?"

    He starts towards the portal to the loft above and stops. "Also... her name is Lasariel. She's an artist. Nice girl." Then he steps through and disappears.

John Constantine has posed:
    Once Chas is gone, John turns to Paul. "Shuddup." It's not a nasty or heated thing, it's almost pleading. Just shuddup, don't talk, just need a hug. "Just shuddup for a minute and then call your contacts in Liverpool, see if you can get a name on any victims with those marks." He knows that might not happen right away, if there is a name, the query will have to find the right person before Paul has an answer... and what if it jumps again before that?

    No. Not going there.

    He holds one hand out to Paul as he steps closer... just, shuddup.

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    "I'll do that, love," Paul says, and just that, and takes John's hand. Then he pulls the man closer, into a firm hug, wraps his arms around him and holds him close.

John Constantine has posed:
    John just goes still in Paul's arms, but he murmurs, "Just shuddup," a time or two more. Those times it's more like he's talking to himself... or the voices in his head. Just shut the fuck up and let him *think*.

    It's not a complete settling, but Paul will definitely feel that panic subside some, no longer the giant as wave it was before. He finally pulls away and blows out the breath he was holding the last few moments of that hug.

    "Okay, nothing to be done about it until we know if you can get a name and if that name leads to anything, aye?" ...and Chas'll get Sprout safe (yeah yeah and Renee).

    He winks at Paul, seems an odd moment for it, but he does it and cracks a little smile. "Up to spending one more night in the House? We can pick out a place next door tomorrow, you can decorate it."

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    "I suppose looking over murder cases for any other clues is a more appropriate thing to do in the House," Paul says with a grin. "Same for making calls to my contacts... although it'll have to wait a few hours until it's morning over there."

    After a moment, he adds, "I can /be/ there, it just... mmm. It pulls, oddly. It feels strange. So it just... can't be an all the time thing."

John Constantine has posed:
    "I can think of a few more appropriate things to do in the House," John returns while that grin turns a little more to the side of mischief and a little wider. It fades a little when he adds, "But first, gimme your hands, love." He holds both of his out.

    He doesn't need Paulie to 'see' all of it, doesn't want him to. What good would it do for this man that loves him enough to have Fallen for him to ... see John impaled on a meat hook? None.

    He just needs him to understand what he's up against, what he's fighting, what that time lost alone in the dark left behind. So that's what he does. He just lets all of the *feelings* of it flow through their touching hands, his grip firm to hold Paul steady through it should the need arise.

    That thing he just can't shake, that feeling of being abandoned that he knows is irrational, that fear of the faces in the water including the people still alive and very much in his heart today. ...and in sharing it with Paul it gets just a little lighter, not quite so thick. "I love you, Paulie," he whispers when it's over. "The House is just a House, love. If you can't stay there, then it'll just be there for what we need it for and I'll stay with you. It's just a house, but you're my Home."

Paul Ramsey has posed:
    Paul takes it all in, closing his eyes and rocking back and forth just slightly as the emotions roll over him. He sighs and leans down to kiss John on the forehead when it's done. It hurts him, it /does/, but it's maybe not entirely surprising. He knew /something/ horrible had happened.

    "And if we need to be safe, we can be where we need to be, for however long we need to be there." A pause, and then, "I'm not leaving, John. Alright?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "I don't know what safe is anymore, love. Closest is when I'm with you, but even that's... colored by it. I'm trying, I really am." John's next words are breathed out with actual regret, "I should have said something sooner, love. To you, go Chas. I just didn't know how."

    The smile he puts on after is a real and genuine one, but just not quite as *bright* as it sometimes is around Paul. "So, what? We have a few hours until you can make those calls?" He offers a little heat tilted not and, "Sounds about just enough time." There's that wink again. "Let's go to bed, aye?"

    He opens that portal and it leads right to the bedroom for him. Truth be told of it, all that big talk and winking was just John being his cocky self. Once there, all he really wants, all he really asks for is closeness, quiet, a safe place to start to actually process that time in the dark and the feelings it left behind.

    ...time to actually begin the road, however long it may be, to healing from it after so long avoiding even stepping down it.