8488/Conversation Long Overdue

Conversation Long Overdue
Date of Scene:	30 October 2021
Location:	House of Mystery
Synopsis:	John finally tells Chas why he made that deal and reveals a bit of information that just might be the death of one of them before it's over. Here's to hoping it doesn't stick to either.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Chas Chandler

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John Constantine has posed:
    By the time Chas makes it to the House, John's just getting out of the shower. Conveniently, the best mate and cabbie in all of Heaven, Hell and the realms between, is dumped into John's bedroom.

    He steps out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck that he's rubbing at his wet hair with. None of it's any surprise to Chas Chandler, the goofy flannel pants his best mate's wearing - zombies tonight with little 'brains' cartoon bubbles on an orange background, they were two years ago Birthday from little Sprout, the fact that he's covered from waist up and both arms in tattoos and scars - including that recent eight point star right over his heart that's still all pink and new skin, the fact that he still has piercings from back in the day that are only seen when he's shirtless.

    None of it's new, none of it's awkward. Platonic life partners? Well, they probably have less body hangups around one another than the non-platonic sort, truth be told. What *is* new is the fact that those pants are a large and he should be wearing a medium, he actually had to tie them to keep them up. He's lost a lot of weight.

    "Hey, mate, Renee and Sprout get settled?" is the first thing he'll ask once Chas is in the room.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The first thing Chas thinks when he sees John is 'The man needs a good burger.' He doesn't voice the idea though, little chance for it right now and even less chance in getting the man to eat it. Instead he answers the question. "They are. Managed to convince Renee to get a room at the Curio. Third floor. Was like pulling teeth, as usual, but she understands that they are both in some danger, even if I didn't give her the details."

    He runs a hand through his hair and sits on the edge of the bed. "So... you wanted to talk about... the thing." He didn't need to elaborate. The pause was enough of an identifier to give a name to the topic at hand. "What about it?" he asks.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I know it pisses you off it off, brother. I know it does. So, I just need you to hear me out, aye? You can yell and scream, even fucking take a free shot when I'm done talking, but just let me finish before any of that happens?" The question is asked in a tone of voice, pleading, that's rarely heard from John Constantine.

    "I just, you need to know why."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas is silent. Everything John had said was true. He nods. "Alright. Go ahead and explain it then. Enlighten me as to how linking your soul to that *thing* can be anything less than a terrible idea." There's acid in his words but he isn't leaving and he is looking at John when he says it.

John Constantine has posed:
    John settles down onto his side of the bed, leaning against that massive headboard with one foot hanging over and the other leg bent slightly toward the ceiling. He lights a Silk and takes a second to figure out how to begin. Finally...

    "That business with the Death Gods, when the Demogorge went on the move and I knew there was no just stopping it, that none of us involved could stop it. Well, there were three possible outcomes. One - the world ended. Two - the world as we knew it ended and became a hellscape of destruction and demons. Three - we'd find a way to stop it. That's a thirty-three point three chance of each, so sixty-six point six chance that the world would be basically gone. I knew the only way to turn the tides, or at least the only way *I* could do *my* part to turn them was to reach Atum, inside the Demogorge, and show him that humanity deserved a chance."

    He draws long and hard from the cigarette and lets the smoke billow out on its own in a slow moving cloud. "...and I knew the spell to do so would kill me." Here he holds up a staying hand, 'let me in finish'. "It wasn't a martyr move or a death wish, I calculated the cost to benefit analysis of the situation, mate, that's it. My life for the *entire fucking world*? Or at least a shot at it."

    "So, when I made the deal, I was a walking dead man. If the world turned to shit and demons and brimstone, I wouldn't be here and I just wanted to keep the ones I love protected. If it ended completely, it didn't matter. If it didn't end... well, that thought sucked, but still... cost to benefit ratio. There would still *be* a world for the rest of you, for Sprout, Phoebe."

    Little sideways tilted shake of his head and, "...and then, I fuckin' lived and here we are. A deal made by a walking dead man that's not... dead."

    "It was never *supposed* to matter, Chas. I was supposed to die and walk the fuckin' astral because they wouldn't let me in... because there still wasn't a clear cut 'owner' of any of the contracts."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas listens and frowns. "Then... how and why are you still here?" he asks. There's still an edge to his words, but something else is mingled in it. It's a puzzle and Chas' curiosity is getting the better of him. "Tell me again what you bargained. The specifics." He turns and leans forward, elbows on his knees. Face twisted into an frown of contemplation.

    It could be worse, he could be taking that swing, instead he's focused on putting pieces togehter, figuring out the question he had. His own 'why" for the man.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas listens and frowns. "Then... how and why are you still here?" he asks. There's still an edge to his words, but something else is mingled in it. It's a puzzle and Chas' curiosity is getting the better of him. "Tell me again what you bargained. The specifics." He turns and leans forward, elbows on his knees. Face twisted into an frown of contemplation.

    It could be worse, he could be taking that swing, instead he's focused on putting pieces togehter, figuring out the question he had. His own 'why" for the man.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I got no bloody clue, mate. A fuckin' seed of destiny sprouted and exploded from my heart..." Yeah, that can't be healthy. John glances down at that eight point star scar on his chest. Will he ever realize it? That the reason he's still alive is the blood of one little bouncy teenage mutant with healing factor nearly unmatched soaked into that seed from a collection of blood and stories the night before he cast the spell. Synchronicity isn't always so obvious as to let him know such things.

    "That, within a year of the date of the deal, I would find a way to break my contract with the other two so that... *he* held the sole contract when I finally died. In return, his protection for the six people I named, his guarantee that he would never touch any of you, you would never be his and that he would intervene on the behalf of all of you should you be threatened by any of his ilk. He saved Phoebe, Chas. The blisters in her mouth, lungs... they were nasty but it was him keeping something worse at bay."

    So, so far it seems Nergal is keeping his end, dunnit?

    "But there's more you need to know, mate. Something's... changed. I kinda died yesterday. It was fluke accident. I was performing a ritual for Jubilation and her girl, one that would protect her girl and make it so Jubilation could feed from her safely. Noriko lost control of her powers, electrocuted me. I was down for maybe two minutes, two and half, down, dead. Phoebe brought me back."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The alarm in Chas' expression shouldn't surprise John. "You... what?" he says. "And I'm just hearing about this now... because..."

    He shakes his head and takes a breath. "No. No. Not going to shout." Another deep breath and he rises, pacing. A nervous gesture from a man usually so solid. "Okay. You died. Heart stopped. Was that it? Did it... fulfill the need? I mean, you're walking but you did die. That's... I mean, some of these deals you make are literal, some are metaphorical... and we can never tell the difference. Maybe..." He tugs at his beard. "Maybe this one was a literal one and you're end of the bargain is taken care of with that. Could that be the case?"

John Constantine has posed:
    John holds his hands up defensively. "First second I really got, Chas. Right after it happened Father Donovan called, then the thing with Mairin this morning. Then the meeting. I'm telling you *now*, first chance, aye?"

    He looks down at the little zombies on his pants, sorta feels like one himself right about now.

    "No. The doors opened, they let me in, mate." Time... it moves different down there. A minute feels like an hour, an hour like a day. John lights another Silk off the one nearly spent. Chain smoking. It's typically not an indicator of good news. "I think he's trying to use this last deal as leverage against the others, use it prove he has more a stake than they do. I don't know if they'll go for it. Especially the First of the Fallen, but if they do? If my deal with the First is null and void? Mate, my cancer's back and I'm dead within a week and *his*."

    Chas was there for every second of it, that first round with cancer, when they thought all was hopeless, none of the treatments working. Then John vanished one night and came back a week later cancer free. It would be two months later before he confessed the two deals that cost him to Chas.

    "So... we have to break this deal, brother and I don't think we have ten months left to do it."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Breaking a deal with a high ranking demon, in order to keep John alive... that means tricking the high level demon in such a way that no collateral damage would be done. Okay, realistically, so that the collateral, for there is always collateral, would be kept to a minimum. Chas looked at John. "You have a plan on how we can do that?" he asks, eying the man. "And before you spout some bullshite about sacrificing yourself I am taking that off the table right now. Not an option."

    "You said that Ne...Narwhal's deal with you is that those six have to stay safe... and he does that in whatever way he can and adds his own flavor of corruption to the mix with his 'protections.'" The gears in Chas' head are definitely turning.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Not yet, I thought I had more time," John replies quickly. Maybe a little too quickly? Someone outside his heart, someone that hasn't known the man since acne and awkward likely wouldn't even notice. But Chas knows John better than Chas knows himself some days.

    There's something, at least the beginning of something that John's considered.

    He shakes his head and angles it up a little to keep the smoke from the cigarette between his lips from stinging his eyes when he adds, "No self-sacrifice, not this time, mate. I know what he'll do to me down there. I mean if we can't figure it out, it is what is and I did it to myself. But I'm not going out of my way to make it happen."

    But there's... something. He's not lying about that bit, he *doesn't* want to end up there. But there's something he's thought of already, something he's holding back as a last ditch Hail Mary probably.

    "I'm sorry, Chas. I *really* thought it wouldn't matter when I made it."

    And he was scared and coming off that horrid underworld trek and feeling all that crap he confessed just days ago. It *was* stupid, not because he made a deal, but because his emotions were so all over that he didn't fully think it through as he always has in the past. But... it saved Phoebe, so...

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas thinks about letting the last ditch effort slide until it's needed. Under normal circumstances he would leave it alone and trust that John would figure out a way that wouldn't need it. But usually there's time for a multitude of trial and errors that, yeah might not work, but eventually somthing would get them out of the jam they were in.

    They didn't have the luxury of time with this one.

    "Tell me" he says to the man, turning to him. "I know you've got *something* in your head. If I'm going to help you, properly... I need to know what you're holding back. You can't keep that sort of shite from me, John. You know you can't, so trying is a pretty ballsy move, if I have to say."

    "Come on, mate, fess up with it" he relaxes a bit, and gestures for John to tell him. "Just let me know. It can't be that bad if you suriving is in the cards of it."

John Constantine has posed:
    John reaches up and scrubs at his face with his hands, Silk still between his lips. Talent that. "Aaaannnggg. Fuck, mate. I don't like it." Which likely means it involves someone other than him making the sacrifice.

    He gives that damned quick little titled shake of his head again, teeth catching his bottom lip at the left before, "Bloody Hell, mate. I can't..." He stops though and takes a second to just study his best mate. It's not a one way street is it? John and Chas, Chas and John... it goes both ways, each would likely be equally lost without the other.

    Is it fair then, for John to not share something that could keep Chas from that loss?

    "If a demon killed you... it'd break his end." And... Chas would come back. The idea is barely whispered and John's not looking at Chas when he whispers the words. Anywhere but, really. His guilt over even suggesting such is palpable.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns. "Oh..." he says softly. Slowly. "That... does make sense. Yeah..." He pauses and looks at the ground rubbing at the back of his neck. Dying was never fun. Even if it didn't stick the pain of the experience was still there. Still tangible. The whiplash of having his soul leave the body only to be jerked back in as some *other soul* takes his place on Heaven's census--or Hell's.

    After a moment of silence he says. "How we stop him from saving me before I go?" That was what was holding him up. Not the pain. Not anger at John's suggestion. He was working through how to have it happen without Nergal's intervention before his death.

John Constantine has posed:
    It's not even that John misreads the reluctance as something it isn't when he says, "No, we don't have to do this, Chas. I'll find another way." No, he doesn't misread Chas at all, he reads the man like a book and it's his best mate's absolute willingness to go through that on his behalf that has John suddenly rattled and backtracking.

    "It'll be fine, we'll figure something else out. I'm so fuckin' *sorry*, mate."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas shakes his head. "No. It's fine. I'm all for it as long as we can figure out how to turn his attention elsewhere safely enough that he has to take a coin flip on who he takes... and I end up on the losing side."

    He stops at John's apologizing. "Stop it!" he says sharply. "This plan will work and I am fine with giving one more if it means you don't go to eternal torment or die of cancer. Okay? Honestly, let me take the W a few times, mate." He moves forward and drops back down on the bed. "I've got over 30 left, that I am certain of. One more isn't going to ruin me. Okay?"

John Constantine has posed:
    John squeezes his eyes shut tight for just a second. It's hard ... really hard for him to accept any of this, even with him voicing the idea first, it's *so* hard. That part of him that stacks guilt on top of guilt on top of guilt when much of it isn't even his to carry...

    Finally, without opening his eyes, he murmurs, "A'ight, mate. We'll figure out a way to make it so you win the coin flip to die." He plucks that cigarette from between his lips and finally opens his eyes to snuff the thing out in the ashtray on the bedside table. "I'm fuckin' beat, Chas. Paul's working a graveyard. You mind stickin' until I fall asleep?" He never was one to fall asleep easily alone, it's part of why he used to be such a little manwhore. Shaggin' meant someone there while he fell asleep, even if he usually booted'm out before sunrise.

    But for him to outright ask such a thing of Chas? Well, the nightmares must be a *bitch* right now.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods. "I don't mind, mate. I know you have trouble. Besides, not like I get Geraldine tomorrow. Renee's taking her to see Ground zero. The monument and all." He looks a little wistful at the memory.

    He rises and moves to a chair nearby. The heavy wood creaks along the floor as he drags the chair closer to the bed. "Mind if I read why you slip down?" he asks.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Second drawer on the right, dresser, two bracelets. It's quick and dirty spell work, won't last longer than a half a day before they need a recharge and they're not as good as being behind my warding in a building, but it'll keep'm hidden for that," John replies first as he's kicking back the blankets on the bed and climbing under there.

    The temperature in the room drops about fifteen degrees, the House knows how its master likes to sleep, buried under covers in the cold.

    "No, I don't mind."

    The whole night, even with the bad news, it's been a step in the right, hasn't it? John still hasn't shaken it completely, he might never, or it'll at least take a long time. But he was honest, open, even vulnerable. It's something Chas used to see more than anyone out of the Laughing Magician, used to even often when it was just the two of them. It's been months really. Baby steps, he'll get there.

    Provided the bloody fool survives this one.