8502/Apology Rejected

Apology Rejected
Date of Scene:	30 October 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	Jon comes to try to apologize to Constantine for past transgressions, but he's having none of it.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Zatanna Zatara, Jonathan Sims, Nico Minoru, Lydia Dietrich

---

John Constantine has posed:
    There's only one place for a man to retreat to after an encounter with an evil, old Hag. His home away from home, his little Pauper's Throne at the end of his bar in his pub with all the creature comforts surrounding him.

    John's just getting settled in, making sure his ashtray is spaced just so from his pack of Silk Cuts that's squared off just so with the edge of the bar, that Zippo lighter perfectly centered on the pack, that bottle in its exact proper place and the glass nearby.

    If anyone were to think on it too long, they might come to see all that for what it is, a man desperately trying to take control of *something* in his constantly out of control life.

    The Jukebox is set to a volume suitable for conversation, it's late and only a few stragglers remain as customers.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Among those 'stragglers' is Zatanna who popped over from the Curio, dressed down for lounging at home. Gone the tux and fishnets, traded for high topped sneakers in red and stovepipe black jeans topped with her favorite Kenzo plaid jacket.

"Mind if I join you, John?" she eyes the man with his carefully arranged habit and then the bottles. "The 12-year old Glenlivet would be nice, Chas. Can I afford it?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "Not at all, luv." All things considered, John doesn't look too worse for wear. He's come home from situations like tonight in much worse condition. He's just a little dusty, a little pale and a whole lot with wanting to get some damned alcohol flowing.

    He fills his glass, he downs, fills it, downs it... and on the third he stops with somewhere between a swig and a sip.

    With Chas not on duty and Nigel-William busy in the back, John just says, "Get what you want, luv." No wonder the place doesn't turn a profit? "Money's no good here." Hers that is.

    He lights a cigarette and makes sure that damned pack and the zippo are in the exact same spot when he's done.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon is wearing an actual suit when he walks into the bar. Well, the suit jacket and slacks, and a white button-up. No tie. He's got his hands in his pockets as he steps into the bar, hesitating in the doorway. For all he knows, John will throw him right back out before he has a chance to say anything.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Not nearly as eager to go down the scotch bottle hole, Zee watches him down three glasses noncommittally before slipping off her stool to go behind the bar and serve herself. She selects the bottle, a single malt for rich girls like herself and snobs, though Zee would be the last to lay claim to that sobriquet, and pours herself three fingers.

The magician's face lights up at Jon's appearance. She purses her lips and whistles at the suit and jacket, though she had seen him that formally dressed when they were at Woodlawn together. "Hi. Good to see you. Scotch?" she lifts the bottle then glances at John with a question in her eyes.

Nico Minoru has posed:
    Nico's doing what Nicos do best lately... lurking in a dim corner, legs drawn up against her chest as she takes up minimal space on one of the bench seats in a booth, adding that appropriate goth flare... or, it seems, buried nose-deep in a book about herbalism and foraging. Her head bobs in time to the songs as they rotate through the jukebox, flipping a page every now and then, proving she is not in fact a slightly misplaced gargoyle dressed in black silk and lace.

    While she's been either studiously absorbed in her book for hours... or at least, she's been _looking_ studiously absorbed and throwing off those ice cold 'I am not here for conversation' vibes, the shell cracks as she peeks up to eye John's ritual, lips pursing. She hasn't known him long, but he's always so high strung... which reminds her of his Map Of Spooky Shit. Maybe being high strung makes sense.

    Still, she lifts her metallic left hand to sketch a little wave/salute and those pursed, dour lips even crack a little grin, almost reassuring!

    Gotta try and cheer the team leader up. She picked that up somewhere.

    Then Zatanna's showing up... not in full on stage regalia this time, so Nico's not as starstruck at least. And then Jon shows up and hesitates in the doorway. Now that herbalism book's being shut, a card slipped in the pages as a bookmark.

John Constantine has posed:
    John, on the other hand, does not light so much. He doesn't even *look* at the archivist when he enters. "Whatcha want, mate?" he asks, his voice just this side of absolutely snide. Just this. There's a distaste there, that's for certain. Someone's still not in the best of moods in regards to Johnathan Sims.

    He polishes off that third drink way quicker than he'd planned when he poured.

    Nico, however, doesn't go unnoticed. He does return that salute with a little mock one of his own, middle finger forward of course. But there's a half smile curling the left side of his mouth to soften the blow of it. "No more demon contracts, aye?" he asks.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon shakes his head at Zatanna. "No, thank you," he says softly. Something's subtly shifted in him in the few days since the cemetery, a tension that's gone, hunching his shoulders less. He walks over to stand a little ways down the bar from John. Flicks a glance toward Nico briefly, but she's clearly on the ins, so he shrugs.

    He looks to John, takes a deep breath, then says, "Sasha's dead. So that's one thing off your plate."

Nico Minoru has posed:
    Nico rolls her eyes a little as she springs forth from the dimness of the booth, landing upon buckled boots with a soft thud, sighing out, "Jeeze, you get offered _one_ demonic contract and suddenly everyone thinks you're just going to collect them."

    Of course, the goodnatured sarcasm stops then when Jon makes his pronouncement and Nico freezes up solid... she'd probably be tempted to cast a teleportation spell to get out of the awkwardness, but she'd have to consider the phrasing, and also that'd involve _talking_, and maybe if she doesn't move...

    Magicians. Their vision is movement based. She saw that in a movie, she's sure of it.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia slipped out from the Asteroid late at night, when everybody has gone to bed already. It's not an uncommon thing for her to do. Sometimes she goes to her mostly unused apartment in Brooklyn, and other times, like today, she finds herself at the Laughing Magician.

Tonight she's dressed simply. Jeans and a burgundy blouse that gives a little color to her otherwise pale skin, and a sheepskin jacket over it all. She doesn't really feel the cold anymore, but she felt it would be rather noticeable if she were to run around in one of her sundresses. As always, ash black flakes of ectoplasm constantly fall around her, a sign that her mutation had somehow been altered due to her death.

She pauses on her way in, taking note of who's there and walks up to the bar ordering a Manhattan. "Good evening, John," she says. "I'm sorry I missed the meeting yesterday but important Brotherhood business kept me at the Asteroid.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna hadn't meant to ignore the girl, just give her room. When she sketches a salute at John, she give Nico a faint smile and a nod. John's undisguised nose-out-of-joint greeting of Jon doesn't surprise her. Taking a deep restorative breath she again makes no comment on John's mood or manner, comes back around the bar and pats the stool in invitation to Jon, expression shuttered and tense.

"Well, there it is. At least, listen to us," she unbends enough with him to plead, not something she'd imagine Jon doing. "She is well and gone. It didn't quite go to plan, I think. Not that there was one."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Aye, well, good for you," John quips in return with a raise of his empty glass in the other man's direction. It's not empty for long though. He refills the damned thing and downs half of it. It's likely only a matter of seconds before the other half goes too. Even for him? That's quick and a *lot*.

    "She's handled, pretty much all I need to know, innit?" John mutters in response to Zatanna.

    There goes the rest of that glass and... he pours another.

    "Hey, where'd Nico go?" Did he just make a *joke* upon seeing the girl trying to stand so still? Or was her movie accurate?

    He turns his attention to Lydia and offers a little wink. "That's all right, luv, just means you weren't here to protest when I put you in the chain of command." Asshole.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon raises a brow. "That's it? A few weeks ago it was such a huge deal that /only/ you could handle it, and now you... don't care?" He sighs. "Well, Martin's alive, as well. Or do you just not care about that, either?" He folds his arms across his chest, raising the other brow. He can't quite believe John /doesn't/ care, by the expression on his face.

    He glances over as Lydia enters and nods to her politely. "Good evening," he murmurs.

Nico Minoru has posed:
    Nico narrows her eyes... she knows _she_ can see moving people. But she's got a bad case of impostor syndrome. These people are _magicians_, she's just a gal with a staff. And a magic arm. That's totally not the same.

    Still, when John's more... grumpy alcohol-pounding than griefstricken alcohol pounding, motions resumes.

    She breezes past John to eye the liquor behind the bar and drawl out, "Oh, it was part of one of those _other_ demon contracts."

She turns a little to lift her fingers in a wave to Zatanna, and then gives a cool nod to Lydia.

    She can do this, she can totally like... fit in with this crew.

    Or at least she can very slowly read the labels on the gin bottles while Jon and John cause enough friction to start a bonfire.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia lets out a groan. "I know. Why /did/ you do that anyway? I used to get nightmares every time I went out into the field." She shudders as she recollects the sheer /carnage/ that she witnessed Sabretooth inflicted on a roomful of men. "I mean, I don't get nightmares anymore. I don't /dream/ anymore, which I guess is a small blessing."

She accepts the Manhattan from Zee, and takes a tentative sip. She gives him a nod and says, "Chas can learn a thing or two from you. I swear he makes them wrong on purpose."

Jon gets a pleasant nod, though she's keeping her distance from him and John, since it looks like they're about to break out in fisticuffs at any moment. Instead she turns to Nico and offers her a warm smile. "Hello. You were there at the Walmart, but we were never introduced. I'm Lydia," she says holding out a hand, that will be cold to the touch.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna is hardly in a predatory mood, she shrugs at Nico and shakes her head, her way of telling her to carry on naturally.

"Evening, Lydia. Looks like I'm serving. A Manhattan then?" Not at all unhappy to be on the other side of the bar while John is this deep in the Scotch.

She winces at his quip to Lydia, hands moving quickly as she puts the drink together for her - whiskey, vermouth and a touch of bitters, and silently sets it before her with a little twist of lemon floating in it. She glances from one man to other and huffs unhappily.

"It was not at all what was intended. Persephone intervened but she doesn't control every mortal and Martin went all secret agent on her and killed her. The Goddess was less than happy from what I could gather."

John Constantine has posed:
    Oh but his poker face says he doesn't. The only spot where it fails even the tiniest bit is the mention of Martin still being alive. It's just a flicker and gone, relief. A little gesture in the direction jukebox has the volume raising just a touch. Still not quite loud enough to overbear talking, but making such a little more difficult.

    "Good for you, mate, hope you have a long happy one." Down goes half another glass.

    At this rate, he's going to actually drink himself to *death*.

    Why did he Lydia? Maybe because he respects you, trusts you or... "No one else wanted the gig," he quips, voice deadpan but he's surely teasing, right?

    "When are they *ever* happy?" John snarks at Zatanna. Anyone that knows a thing about him knows that he thinks upstairs sucks as much as down, they're just more subtle about how they play with humans is all.

Nico Minoru has posed:
    Nico's right hand reaches out, warm to the touch, she can't quite hide her eyes widening at the coolness of Lydia's own as she grins lopsidedly and bobs her head, "Nice to meet you, Lydia. Like, in a friendly, casual way and not... you know, murderous toys and Halloween decorations."

    She at least takes the talk of gods and goddesses easily, but then, when a demon tried to give you some sort of infernal contract earlier in the week, and your parents died dealing with at the very least god-like beings, that's actually not so hard to take.

    John's heroic intake of whiskey is starting to earn a little crease between dark eyebrows though... and a little glance to Lydia and Zatanna, they seem to _know_ him, maybe they'll know if this is as bad as it looks.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon heaves a sigh and /looks/ at Zatanna at 'secret agent.' Terrific. Now that's just going to get... spread around. "Thoth approved. /They/ wanted her dead. I just..." He frowns. Looks down. "I wasn't going to kill /family/."

    Then he looks up, squares his shoulders. He's going to say his piece, and John can take it or leave it as he will. "I... look, John, I know things have been... difficult, these last few weeks. I've... I'm /still/ in a very bad place. So... I'm sorry, for being difficult. And I still consider you a friend, but if you throwing me out of the bar means you don't feel the same... let me know and I'll leave, and I won't trouble you again."

    He hesitates, then adds, "But I'm not going to block your number, either."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
So John is going to let another friendship go down the cesspool. It had taken years for John and Zee to come back into some kind of accord, mostly unspoken. His way, not hers. People talked in her family, wrangled, screamed sometimes but eventually listened and made up. Not his way nor will she force hers on him, not when he's this deep into drinking. Well, not ever. That she has learned with him the hard way.

She is quite proud of Jon for trying to make peace. She is hopeful with John, knowing that his temper can hide so many other qualities, the ones that have made her stay at his side since their unspoken reconciliation. She waits, breath suspended hoping the young ones will know better than intervene. Zee looks intensely at Nico and Lydia.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia notes Nico's reaction to her hand. "Sorry," she says, ducking her head apologetically. "I should have warmed them up for you. I usually don't bother when I come to the pub since everybody here knows I'm a vampire. It's not something I usually care to admit, but if you're going to be on the team, you should know."

Lydia can't help but snort at John. "Wouldn't surprise me," she says. She looks like she's about to interpose herself between him and Jon, when Jon offers an olive branch. She knew things have been tense around them lately, and her inner mother at times wanted to send them to their respective corners for a time out. Not today it looks like.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Aye, because being repeatedly called a narcissist, being told in a most direct way that I'm a shite friend, and indirectly over and over again for weeks, it really screams 'friend', *Jon*." John glances at Zatanna and shakes his head just the tiniest bit. Then his attention turns to Jon and he says, "Not everything is about *you* either, Archivist."

    With that, he pushes himself up from his stool and heads for the little, currently dark, stage in the corner so he can snatch up an old beaten and battered acoustic guitar settled there near a chair in the shadows. He settles into the chair and just starts idly strumming the thing. Idle strumming eventually turns into Mumford and Sons, Broken Crown.

    Seems that's a new favorite... and damn but he's good. Really good. Could have gone somewhere with it good, if his path didn't take a drastic detour.

Nico Minoru has posed:
    Nico shakes her head and grins, "Oh! No problem... another vampire? Neat! I mean, do you know Jubilee? She does... sparkles? And vampire stuff?"

    She shrugs lightly, even if it's a little forced... hey, maybe chipper youth will ease the tension! "And hey, it's cool, vampire's just like... you know, a thing nowadays I guess? No problems here at all."

    Nico tenses up a little as tensions build... and then John's walking to the stage and strumming, and slender shoulders drop a little. Whew. Maudlin guitar playing. She's a goth just out of her teen years. That she recognizes. That's just... normal. Tension easing.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs. "Yes," he murmurs, "well." He reaches up to rub at his temple and looks to Zatanna for a moment. Considering. He fiddles with something in his pocket, frowning slightly to himself.

    He's clearly debating whether to go or stay, and whether to say something before he does. "Sorry about this," he murmurs to Nico and Lydia.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
One part of her watches Nico and Lydia get to meet each other, glad for it. She is nearly wholly occupied with the Archivist and John. Unsure of whether John will hear her over his talented guitar and gravely singing, "Well, nor any of us, for that matter. Can you give each other the grace of knowing that?" She shuts her mouth on anything else she might want to say after another glance at John.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"I didn't know she sparkles," Lydia admits. "We haven't really talked. I've been meaning to, since there's a bit of tension between us." She takes a sip of her and says thoughtfully. "I think it's a vampire thing, but I want to make sure it's nothing more than that."

There's an intake of breath, which she lets out as a sigh, and turns to Jon. "He's being stubborn," when is he not? "And drunk." Again, when is he not? "You offered an apology. That's about all you can do."

John Constantine has posed:
    John doesn't seem to have any inclination to return to the conversation. There in the shadows, alone seems to suit him just fine right now. His next number is a rather haunting acoustic rendition of a song that could very well have been written *about him*.

    Behind Blue Eyes, by the Who... but this isn't the Who's version. It's a little slower, a little darker, a lot more haunted, just a little more John overall.

    It's play his feelings or... lose his fucking temper. It's never good when he loses his temper, not when he *truly* loses his temper. People get hurt when he truly loses his temper.

Nico Minoru has posed:
    Nico's shoulders lift and fall as she tilts her head thoughtfully, "Huh, I guess I never really considered if like... 'vampire drama' was as present in reality as it is in, you know, TV shows about teenage vampires?"

    She shakes her head and sighs out, glancing over to Zee, eyebrows perking at John's playing in a hopeful little expression.

    And then John's finding a way to play a _gloomier_ Behind Blue Eyes. It's worryingly gloomy.

    Like, worrying for the _goth kid_ gloomy. Those eyebrows raise higher, because like... Zatanna knows John, clearly. And she's magic! Surely she's got some idea of what to do.

    Because all Nico's got is a worried little look to Jon and a helpless 'Hey man, I dunno' shrug.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It's fine, Zatanna," Jon says, his tone one of resignation. "And... I know, Lydia. If John won't accept my apology... then he won't. One more person kept safe, in his mind. Even if something happens to me... if I'm not near him then it isn't /his/ fault. But friendship goes two ways. I acted badly, and I'm sorry for it, and I've tried to apologize. John has my number, if he ever feels ready to do the same."

    He fiddles with whatever's in his pocket again, then looks to Lydia, expression quite serious. "I know that John thinks he's the only one who can possibly fight the things you fight, or that this group is... but there /are/ other people out there dealing with dark magic. When his personal business is done, with Phoebe and everything, /please/ try to get him to take a vacation. I'll tell Chas too. The world is safe enough, /New York/ is safe enough, for John to take a /break/ for once. We'll--" He stops. Takes a breath. "It'll be okay. If he does."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Back to her stool, she considers Jon for a long moment, shaking her head at his, "It's fine." She had just gotten to know the Archivist, and, had gotten close to him quickly. John is part of her history, her soul. Eyebrows knit, she rubs a temple, the beginning of a rare headache for her. She hates the conflict.

Now is not the time for either the apology or the plea for John to slow down to a less killing pace, no matter what it does to those close to him. "Do that," when she mentions Chas, but not today. "Give it some time, Jon."

She finishes the two fingers of scotch left in her glass without a shudder. "I'll check in with you all later. Call me, Jon, when you can."

"John," she says lifting her hand to catch his attention, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the song, "I'm in New York for the entire week." Clutching the amulet at her neck, "I'm here."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia gives Nice a wry grin. "Oh you have /no/ idea the kind of drama vampires get into with each other." She watches John play his melancholy tunes with a shake of her head. "I'm a victim of some of that drama," she explains. "I got caught up in a feud spanning millennia, and this was the result," she says, touching the pale skin of her cheek with the back of her fingers.

She looks to Jon. "Do you really think he'll listen to me about taking a break?" She shakes her head, "When this is over I'm spiking his drink so he can get a good night's rest for once."

John Constantine has posed:
    The music stops... abruptly. John doesn't move from the shadows when he speaks though. "I told him, Zee. Before I even fucking told *Chas*. I told *him*, Mr. Archivist. What you and Phoebe saw during the Warding. I didn't even tell Gertie, because I couldn't. But I told *him*. But I'm just some narcissistic shite friend that always thinks it's only about me. I gave *him* the worst fucking... the fucking worst of it, because..." He sets the guitar aside and stands.

    "You know, fuck it, stay and play the fucking Saint Jon, the one that gives so much of a shit about everyone else. I'll go be a selfish piece of shite elsewhere." He makes his way toward the bar, snatches up his bottle and those Silks. He leaves the lighter behind. That's... not like him, Chas gave him that lighter.

    ...and then he's heading for the front door. Not even the backroom, just the front door. Out. Just *out*.

    He lets Zatanna get out before him if she's going. ...and goes the opposite direction. He's not fit for human consumption right now, not one bit.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Grimly, Zee lets John shoulder by her without a word, recognizing the mood on him. Then after a backward wave to Nico and Lydia, shoves her hands into her pockets and walks out the door in the opposite direction to John. "Later everyone. Call me if you need anything."

Nico Minoru has posed:
    Nico's silent, tense... on one hand, this all seems so very bad. She's just met this group of interesting people, the first group she's felt at ease in since her childhood friends... and now it's getting messy. Splintering.

    Oh, sure, no one's tried to kill the rest of the group or anything so it's not the worst she's been through, but... it's also a little worse. She doesn't know what to do, so she does nothing.

    Well, okay, she worries, and frowns, and frets silently. But she doesn't try to stop John. He clearly needs some air or at least some space. Besides, he's at this bar all the time, he should be easy to track down and check up on later. Possibly sprawled in the middle of a pile of whiskey bottles, but still, easy to find. Bright side and all.

    She tosses a wave to Zatanna, offers a shrug to Lydia and Jon. The joys of being a literal Runaway, a year of keeping lower than low profile, not allowing attachments... makes it easy to think about just wandering on again.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon reaches up to rub at his temples again as John walks out. Clenches at whatever's in his pocket. /Doesn't comment/. He just... doesn't. What is there to say? Yelling gets him yelled at; apologizing gets him yelled at. Being rude gets him called out, being concerned marks him an apparently-insincere "Saint." So... what is there to say?

    What... /thank you/ for giving me more horrific nightmares? Yes. /Thank you/. Except, he did, he said he was honored to be told, but that's about how far the Archivist ever comments on the Stories they receive. So... /what/ is he supposed to say?

    He sighs. Calls to Zatanna, "I'll call you, Zed. There's something else I need to tell you about anyhow."

    Finally, he looks to Lydia. "I don't know if he will," he says, "but... he has to listen to someone. Eventually." He shakes his head. "Good luck, I suppose."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia gives Nico a kind of helpless look. "He can be like that sometimes," she says of John. "Of course it doesn't help that he's been running himself ragged for /months/ now, so I'm not surprised that he's being a little bit tetchy." She lets out a heavy sigh. "John's like a hedgehog. He's all prickly on the outside, but as soon as you turn him over he's got a squishbelly."

She steps up to Jon and lays a hand on his shoulder, and squeezes sympathetically. "Zee's right. Give it time." Her hazel eyes drift towards the door where John stormed out. "I'll talk to him about it when he's in a better mood. See if I can..." She flails a hand helplessly, "Sort something out."

Nico Minoru has posed:
    Nico shrugs lightly as John storms off, Zatanna leaves, and things calm down if only from the sudden vacancy of the bar. She wanders over to her earlier booth and picks up her book, tucking it under one arm and frowning thoughtfully. "Well, this all went... not the worst?"

    Her eyebrows perk up like she's looking for confirmation of that.

    Eyes narrow as she murmurs dryly, "So if he gets prickly like that, poke him in the tummy? I'll... keep that in mind." She shrugs again and sighs out, "For now I think I'm going to go grab some sleep, maybe wake up before noon. Probably not though. But hey, aside from all the tension, it was nice meeting you both! I mean, 10/10, no possessed toys or weird hell portals or what the shit ever."

    And then she's strolling out the door, or at least, doing her best approximation of a stroll, it's really more of a determined clomp in those thick soled boots.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs. "He has my number," he says to Lydia. "I literally do not know what I can /possibly/ say given that evidently every single thing I've done, including /apologizing/ for everything I've done, is just... telling him he's a terrible friend, evidently. But it's not as if--"

    He stops. Shakes his head. "It doesn't matter," he says. "It's not his fault. None of it is. It's... me. And the best thing I can do is stop adding to the strain."

    He looks to Nico, smiles wanly. "I'm sorry for causing a ruckus. I'm sure things will be better once I'm gone."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia shoots Nico a grin. "Sorry if our meetings haven't been the best of circumstances. I promise you, it's not always this bad."

She watches as the goth girl goes with a kind of sadness, turning back to the bar and to her Manhattan. "It's /not/ your fault," she tells Jon. "At least, it's not your fault that he won't accept your apology. I'm not going to make excuses for him, though. He's a grown man even though he's acting like a moody teenager." She shakes her head and mumbles into her dink, "I swear to /God/ he's such a drama queen."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs. "I don't... do well with that sort of thing. The drama queen business. Either I yell at people or I try to fix it, and either way it... doesn't turn out well." He shrugs, smiles ruefully. "It's something I'm working on. I've gotten to 'just let it happen' at least, so I suppose that's something."

    A pause, then, "Thank you for the book. I've been reading it, enjoying it. I'll get the rest, I think. But... I should go." He glances toward the door. "I just wanted John to know things were alright."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia nods in understanding, and pats Jon's arm consolingly. "He'll come around eventually," she says. "Go home. It's late. Only vampires and drunkards are up at this hour. I'll lock up."