9012/Too Little, Too Late

Too Little, Too Late
Date of Scene:	09 December 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	More revalations are made about just how far the Demon Constantine's treachery had gone while discussions of how to save the denizens of Hell's Kitchen continue. Some apologies are made, while others go unheard.
Cast of Characters:	Chas Chandler, Phoebe Beacon, Zatanna Zatara, Jonathan Sims, Cael Becker
Tinyplot:	Path of Glory

---

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The Laughing Magician is all but empty--scratch that, it is entirely empty of patrons. Still, like the workhorse he is, Chas stands behind the bar. He's got a container of silver polish and a grey stained rag with a pair of trays on the bar. It seems that without patrons he's decided that it's time to polish the silverware.

    He's already managed a nice stack of forks and knives if the tray on his right with gleaming flatware is any indication. Business must be incredibly slow. Which isn't surprising given everything that's happened.

    He's currently working on a particularly tarnished spoon at the moment, his shoulders strain as he buffs out the polish he's added to the utensil.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Entirely unsurprising. Phoebe has still been coming down, even with no patrons to serve or occasionally no bartender to back. She didn't mind, kept her occupied between rounds of puppy training and laundry demons. She was in the kitchen, having cleaned out the little fryalator unit they kept on hand for the occasional order of actual food in the bar, jeans and T-shirt with three skeletons dancing on it and her hair in a bright yellow Jersey Cloth hair wrap. There was a pile of knives she'd cleaned earlier, and as a joke she's added a massive zweihander sword to the magnetic knife rack in the kitchen. Because, on occasion, she tries to get eyerolls outta people.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
As is her wont, Zee portals in on a puff of air. This time bringing a little drift of snow with her.

"We have silverware? What other surprises lay in our treasure house, Chas?" asked with a grin as she brushes the snow off her black coat and unwinds her bright red scarf.

"It's snowing in Tokyo. Rare for this time of year, everyone is running around with worried looks, saying, "Okashii, ne!"

While hanging up the coat, "How are you? Oh, hello Phoebe! Nice to see you." Hiding a smile, "Got any Mountain Dew on you?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon stayed the night on Chas' couch after the latest body was found in Hell's Kitchen, then started combing through the books kept in the back room, which might be an odd thing for other people to watch. His version of 'research' is flipping through a book and then staring off into the distance, talking to himself, and filling notebooks with his thoughts. If anyone peeks, one notebook has a list of people with notes like 'wouldn't be that stupid' and 'been acting oddly', and the other is filling up with what appears to be research on angels, particularly how to fight them. Not that there's /much/ out there for knowledge on 'how to fight angels.' Who fights angels, besides demons?

    Possibly the Justice League Dark, soon enough. Oof.

    Sitting around in the back room finally gets to him and, restless, the Archivist goes out for a walk. As Zatanna portals in, he's just coming back in with coffee from the little place down the street, humming 'Gloria in Excelsis Deo' to himself. It's not /just/ that he has angels on the mind, okay, there's Christmas music everywhere. And... some gut feeling told him to get four coffees, so there's coffee for Zatanna. He pushes the door shut with his foot and peers at her.

    "What were you doing in Tokyo?" he asks. It's curious, not accusative.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Oh, hello Jon." She frowns reading his face and posture. "Are you alright? Oh, thanks for the coffee." In fact if she drinks a coffee on top of everything else she has had today, she won't sleep for the next 48 hours.

"Well, I...I'll tell you the truth. I pretend to most people I'm shopping, but I go to practice tea ceremony with my tea teacher. It's...not everyone understands." How unusual for Zatanna to stammer about anything she does, much less something something so innocent. The tea ceremony hides deeper secrets.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas sighs and gives up on the spoon, there are some stains that just don't come out. "We do have decent silver... it's not used much. If ever. But with this..." he gestures to the empty bar. "What else am I to do?"

    He shrugs and gives Jon a nod. "Got tired of the same information five times over, huh?" he asks and then looks to the small kitchen. "What *are* you trying to make back there? I told you that machine didn't work last time I tried it."

    To be fair when Chas tried it, he hadn't bothered to see that the oil thermometer was properly set and so everything was simply overcooked to the point of ineddibleness.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe pops her head out of the kitchen:

    "Chanoyu is not everybody's cup of tea!" Phoebe jokes brightly, coming out with a red plastic basket piled high with little deep fried croquettes of chickpea and parsley goodness, smelling of cumin and fresh oil. There's a tuppeware of hummus that she sets out as well. "I ordered a new temperature regulator since the oil themometer I had in there got... ah... dipped in batter and fried a couple weeks back." Phoebe gives a slight shhrrruuuug to Chas "Looks like it's okay?" she offers up a falafel croquette. "New regulator seems to be working all right." she explains, a bit quietly because she... didn't say she was working on the machine. She scratches at her sternum again, right below the hem of her teeshirt, and breathes out as she sets the pile of hot chickpea laden goodness.

    "And Zee. You know this is a Coke establishment." she states, trying to return to her levity. "Falafel?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Tea ceremony sounds lovely," Jon says. "I don't know much about the practice, admittedly." Zatanna having taken her coffee, he offers one to Chas and then another to Phoebe as she comes out of the back with... ohh, falafel.

    "That smells amazing," he enthuses. "Are we working on a new menu? Make this a proper pub when things get better? Falafel, fish and chips, kebab?"

    Whether or not Phoebe takes the coffee, he takes his own to sit at a table and says, "I needed to stretch my legs. I'm on my feet more often these days, I didn't realize how much I'd gotten used to it." Normally he'd be in the gun range at this time. Which... he doesn't /say/.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
After wrinkling her nose at her for the Coke joke, "Hmmmm...this is delicious, Phoebe," she croons snagging a hot falafel and dipping it in hummus."This is as good as some of the places in Lebanon."

She concentrates on the first few bites of the hot falafel, cupping her hand under her chin "I'm so pleased you know the name in Japanese, Phoebe. My teacher alternates between Tokyo and Kyoto, she is Urasenke. There is a center here in New York but she doesn't like to travel these days, she's in her 80's and doesn't know how I manage to get to Tokyo so often."

Taking the coffee from the tray, "Oh, Jon, tea practice is absolutely lovely but the rocky road to hell if you like ceramics, kaiseki cuisine, sumi-e and kimono. Which I do. But, what has you looking so....worn about the edges?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    If Chas is upset that Phoebe fixed the frialator, he doesn't show it, he even offers her a soft smile in thanks. "I have given Jon free reign of the resources in the back in the hopes that he might be able to stop the bastard that's turned my establishment into a no man's land" Chas answers Zatanna.

    "I mean, Constantine has a decent collection on demonology and angelology books in there so maybe something tells us how to fight a Fallen or whatever this thing is." He shrugs.

    "I mean, then again, most of that field is guesswork at best so maybe not... but we can at least try." He takes the coffee and takes a sip of it before taking another with a nod. "Thank you again, Jon. For the coffee."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe does accept a coffee, and sits on the narrow back counter behind the bar. She holds it in her fingers a moment.

    "I began learning it from my sensei, but ... ah... much better at throwing my classmates than I am at remembering all the steps; we elected to go with bonsai rather than anything that requires delicate ceramics." Phoebe gives a smile to Zee, and then to Jon, and at the mention of John rubs at her sternum again, just with her thumbnail.

    "... well, I mean, there's got to be people we can ask, there were plenty of heavy hitters with the Underworld thing. Surely, SOMEONE has fought an angel?" she asks, and then she quietly shifts her weight at the mention of No Man's Land.

    "I couldn't pull anything else from my research. Most of my books if you look up on how to fight messengers of the gods, just say 'Don't'."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It's not a Fallen," Jon says with confidence. "At least... not /yet/. It's... the way I put it to Pezzini last night, it's like beating someone to death with Starry Night while singing an aria. The energy that's doing this shouldn't be used for what's happening, and yet..." He spreads his hands, sighs.

    "If the pattern holds, someone else dies on Friday. We're... /considering/ putting someone out as bait, but that means having trackers on them both mystical and physical, and having a firm plan on dealing with the angel. Thus the research." He nods aside to Phoebe. "I have a few memories of that--my ancestors have faced down rogue angels before, though several of them died in the attempt. Serving the gods we do, not really having a... horse in the race, as it were, we're one of the few entities that /do/ tangle with angels. Most of what I'm getting is the same--angels are not to be trifled with, don't even bother engaging."

    He frowns thoughtfully. "I need to go talk to Lady Death, I think. She probably knows what to do."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna's eyes track Phoebe's gesture. Phoebe had denied there was anything wrong when she had asked her about this new tic of rubbing her sternum. Pain or suppressed nail biting? Or? She has another idea scratching at her subconscious. The talk of angels overtakes the concern which Zee files under something to address very soon.

"I wasn't being ingenuous when I asked Jon. But, I should have known. No closer, I take it?

Shifting her gaze to Phoebe then to Chas, she observes, "Several of us have gone against the gods of the Underworld and their psychopomps. It was devastatingly difficult. But beings of that order? It would be like fighting the Valar to borrow from Tolkien." She sadly shakes her.

With a nod to Jon, "Doesn't that sound like something possessed to you? Or so utterly crazy that the energy is topsy-turvy?

"Lady Death will likely know. Could I go with you Jon or do you prefer to go alone?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas watches Phoebe for a moment as she scratches her chest. He's noticed the tick too, but teenagers get all sorts tics over time, he figured that was one of them. "Some of the things in the back I don't even know where they came from or what language they're in. We have a few notebooks with translations in a number of hands so it's definitely not all our work and some of them look pretty damn old."

    He frowns at Jon. "I don't like the idea of using someone as bait. I mean... this thing is obviously gunning for one of you... and you want to just... hand over someone to it? Seems a bit... like cooking the roast before tossing it to the tiger if you ask me."

    He blanches at the mention of Lady Death. "I still can't believe that she's just hanging around out there... especially while this is going on. I mean, she's the type who might be able to put at stop to this or at the very least... slow it down." He shakes his head and tosses the rag down into the tray with the tarnished silver. "I mean, to be honest, I thought it might be her at first, but you put a stop to that..." he says gesturing to Jon.

    He swallows and shrugs. "I can't do much... this is too big for me. I can hold the fort here--for as long as here is. But if this turns into a Godzilla vs King Kong deal..." he blows out his breath in a huff. "I'm not sure if our little neck of the woods can stand up to that level of devastation."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "She's on my short list of crazy powerful other-siders." Phoebe admits quietly, and she frowns, distant memory reaching out as she leans her head back.

    "What about the rift in the laundromat? Think we can use it to sort of summon it? If Lasariel could translate the Enochian, between my circle work and amplifying the energies out of the possible rift in the basement which I definitely did not investigate on my own yet, could we use it to bait the Angel into the open without having to risk one of ourselves?" she leans her head back a moment against a shelf.

    "Can we make a holding circle strong enough to bind it long enough for us to answer some questions?" she asks, and she sets her coffee down to scratch at her left wrist in thought. "Or banish it? How much power would that TAKE?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Valar are about right," Jon notes dryly. "Tolkien was a Catholic, and a /lot/ of what's in his work is thinly-veiled fictionalization of his beliefs. So, yes. A great deal like fighting one of the Valar."

    Jon frowns thoughtfully. "Hmm. /Would/ that work? I mean, the person offering to be bait is well nigh invulnerable against demons, but they've never fought an angel, so we don't know if they're impervious to that sort of power. I don't want to risk people uneccesarily. That said, Chas... people are /dying/. People who don't deserve to die, in some cases, and certainly not as... /awfully/ as they are. Nobody... /nobody/ deserves what's being done to them."

    He's thoughtful, for a moment, about Lady Death. "Perhaps, Zatanna. If there's time. I survived one encounter but I'm afraid I'd put my foot in my mouth and muck it up. She doesn't seem fond of... men." He wrinkles his nose. "Not that I blame her."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"I believe we can fight it but one of us might die. The circle you mentioned Phoebe is a dangerous thing," Zatanna takes a deep breath and sighs, eyes downcast for a moment remembering. "Do any of you know how 'The Great Evil Beast', considered a threat to Heaven, was banished?" Her gaze moves between the three of them.

"It took the greatest Magicians of our time to banish him. My father died," she nods grimly," in the attempt. But we did it. He died as did Sargon." She passes over the mechanics of the battle or the shock of witnessing her father's death at close hand.

"So, Tolkien's Sauron doesn't seem far removed to me."

With a shrug and a humorless smile, "I'll visit the Lady with you, Jon."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns looking momentarily uncomfortable. "I mean..." he holds up a hand, "and just hear me out... what if instead of fighting it we... well... I don't know... try to get it to work with us?" he asks looking momentarily sheepish (which is a hard thing for a man as large and imposing as he is.)

    He twists his mouth a bit. "I mean, to be fair some of the people it killed... they were pretty awful people from what I've heard around here. Abusers, rapists, killers... it could just be misguided... if we can get it to work with us, none of us will have to possibly die." He swallows.

    "I'm not saying all its actions are forgivable but... it might just be misguided. If one of us could point it in the right direction... think of the good it could do." He appeals to the others in the room, feeling supremely outclassed in the skill department amongst the four of them.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "..then the risks of the circle may outweigh the benefits." Phoebe states, and she frowns. She scratches at her sternum again, as if there should be a hole in the bone by now as she thinks. "What were the crimes of the most recent victim? With Idu and Mr. Bubbles, I haven't had the chance to add it to my case file -- but a shoplifter, treated at the same level as the rapists, the child pornographer... I tresspass and commit acts of violence. Jon has definitely funneled some wrath Seven Deadly Sins style in the smiting department. And all of us have conferred with sorcerers and necromancers, to the one of us has spoken with the dead. Now, that may be the human interpretation of the Bible, so /I/ am not sure how that's applied... Sunday School at St. Tabitha's didn't prepare me for fighting angels or learning magic, I'm just... kinda... spitballing ideas." she frowns.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I am rather certain I have sins in my past that warrant the attentions of an angel," Jon says with a frown. "The latest victim was a supposed cult leader, and they weren't even breaking any laws--simply a /cult/. I expect I break the first couple of commandments by virtue of, ahh, serving /Thoth/, let alone things I've been... privy to."

    He eyes Chas. "But to Phoebe's point... and yours... you want to negotiate with something that is putting shoplifters on the same level as rapists? Embezzlement the same level as murder? I've experienced the deaths of all but one of its victims. It's not making any kind of differentiation. Put a toe out of line, get /tortured/ to death."

    He glares at Chas. "Tortured, Chas. Not just killed. Forced to nail themselves to a cross, then /mutilated/ and burned from the inside out. It's /horrific/. If a human were doing this, and the justice system saw fit to give them the death penalty, they would receive a cleaner death than this. As well they should. But, /reason/ with it? No. We send it back where it belongs and it can go back to leaving mortals the bloody hell /alone/."

    He shakes his head. "I get it, Chas. You want to believe angels are... good. I mean, Martin's not down here with me because he cannot fathom /facing down an angel/. His faith, such as it is, won't let him. But maybe you should learn to /question/ the things you believe in, hmm?" He tries to keep the bitter twist out of his words, but can't quite. Sighs, and reaches for a bit of falafel.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Of course, he wants to believe it is good. I do, too. But it's a stretch to believe it means well when it tortures people to death. So we are back to banishing it," Zatanna says grimly.

She murmurs, rhetorically, "What would bring a being of that stature into our realm? One that doesn't make a distinction between petty theft and murder." She obviously doesn't have the answers nor does it seem that she can be of help.

"I have no problem facing down an angel. I just don't think that I can. But, I will try....just not without a plan."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas begins to hang his head for a moment and then looks at Jon. There is a set to his chin. "You have something to say, Jon?" he asks, a touch of edge coming into his own tone. "I get it, the idea was stupid... but your tone says there is more you want to say."

    He looks around at the others in the room. "If we're going to work as a team these are the sorts of things that need to come out, so... out with it."

    He fixes the man with a direct blue-eyed gaze and sips his coffee. "Clear the air. Especially since I don't think Wonder Woman wants to come and gives us some offical status tomorrow with this sort of shadow hanging over our heads."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe is suspiciously silent, but she scratches at her sternum again before she downs her coffee, emptying the cup, and throwing it in the trash bin behind the counter.

    "Why not? You're Justice League Dark. Appropriate to have a shadow, isn't it? Diana might even find humor in it." she states dryly, scratching at her wrist where the leather dog-collar was guarding the magic circle tattoo.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon responds to Zatanna first, as if wanting to make sure she knows he's listening. "I'm compiling information so we can make a plan in the next couple of days. I... have thoughts about why it might be here. But first..."

    He turns to look at Chas with a glare. "Maybe it's just that I've been hearing an awful lot of you defending things that turn out to be /problems/, is all. Not standing on your own two bloody feet and standing up for what you believe in. I recall more than one conversation where you defended something that turned out to not even be your /friend/, and then... do you know, I met Miss Martian the other day? Sweet girl. Baking me a fruitcake. I have to wonder why you pulled a /gun/ on her, Chas. Or Dr. MacIntyre--again, lovely woman--in this very bar, or... I could go on. So excuse me if I don't trust your judgement all that much, just now."

    He huffs out a breath. "/We're/ Justice League Dark, Phoebe. Unless you're not joining up?" He looks between the girl and Zatanna.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
One eyebrow raised, Zatanna asks dryly, "Are you ready to share those thoughts, Jon? They might help us with our own." She looks from Chas to Jon but pointedly will not mix into Jon questioning Chas's judgement.

"Phoebe, can you talk to me privately before I leave?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas winces at the words. "Yeah... you're right. I did give credence to that..." he glances to Phoebe and lets the weight drop, "*thing*. I gave it support and comfort and..." he pauses. "Wait... Miss Martian...?" he frowns.

    He remembers the young woman, if only vaguely. There's senses of anger. A need to do violence on her for taking something of *his* away. Of trying to drive the back with... a shotgun? Why would he... He swallows looking suddenly ill.

    "I... I held her at gunpoint... because she was friends with Meggan. I... Why would I do that?" He looks up at the others. "I did the same with Dr. MacIntyre. Her boyfriend at the time was..." He blinks and puts a hand to his head. "How could I have known that? I don't..." He shakes his head. "I don't sense that sort of thing. I *can't* sense that sort of thing. But I knew he was something not human. Not evil perse, but not exactly good either. And I... drew a shotgun on him too."

    The coffee cup, thankfully empty, drops to the bartop. "I protected him... because I was forced to?" he says, looking at Jon.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "N-no, stop that, that's not --" Phoebe stammers a moment, looking to Chas. She picks up the empty paper coffee cup from the floor, and she holds it in her hand a moment -- and then she lobs it at Jon. It'll likely hit him harmlessly in the head, maybe with that empty cardboard cup noise. Bahnk!

    "/STOP/. Just... just stop. No one. NO ONE Saw Through What Was Happening." Phoebe points out. "Not you, not Zee, not Nettie, not Meggan, not Doctor Freaking Strange. /No One/." she states, and her nail has finally broken through skin at her chest. There's a spot of blood against that green shirt. "So Don't You *Dare*" she breathes out, trying not to seethe "Don't you *dare* make my dad doubt not only his want to protect what he cares about." Her eyes well up with tears.

    "Because that means he should doubt caring about me too. Because /I/ am a by-product in his life from what happened. Everything here. My presence in this bar, the Curio, every magical circle and drop of blood and salty tear, because of That." she hisses. She is shaking. Her hands are balled into fists.

    "So if you're going to make Frances Chandler /doubt/..." she leans forward, her hands going to the bar as she glowers at Jon. "Piss off."

    And she reaches, moving her basket of falafel away from Jon and over to Zee, and then she goes to exit the bar, unwrapping her hair as she storms out.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael picks her moments, doesn't she? She stands in the doorway - watching the girl ranting at Jon, and stepping hastily to the side to let her leave. It was the girl she'd met the other night, wasn't it? Her head turns to follow the girl with her gaze, and she shakes her head, turning to look back at Jon with an amused smile. "Making friends?" she remarks in a dry tone. "Geeze. I thought your job was to be //good// with people."
    The others get a simple nod of greeting. After all, why pull focus from whatever the hell all //that// was about? Nope. That certainly wouldn't be any fun.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    They're all sitting or standing around the Laughing Magician, Jon at a table with falafel and coffee, Chas behind the bar, Phoebe further behind the bar, Zatanna standing about, preparing to leave. Discussing recent events, and there's tension in the air. There's nobody else in the place--it's officially closed, but the door is able to be seen so long as one believes in it properly.

    Then Phoebe gets up off the bar and lobs a cup at Jon, who winces as it bonks off the side of his head. "Phoebe... that's not..." It's not what he meant, at all. "I don't..." He slumps in on himself. Deflates, sort of. Sighs.

    "Sorry, Chas," he mutters. "She's right. I'm sorry. I'll just... umm..." He gets up, as if about to leave his half-drunk coffee on the table. "Suspect list. And... and my research on angels. I'll just... go get those." Somewhere in the back of his mind he's aware, very much so, that Chas just said something fairly important, but he's not putting two and two together yet.

    "Good timing, Becker," he says, not commenting on her jibe. "Like I said. Suspect list."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna is seldom desperate. But she wants Jon's answer almost as much as she wants to follow Phoebe out. "You sure know how to be officious, Jon. Way to go." She will get out of the room before she follows up on Phoebe boinking him on the head; Zee agrees with Phoebe.

With an effort, she says, "If you don't mind sharing those, I'd appreciate it. You have my email, right?" Frowning at the woman in the doorway, she mutters in passing, "The falafel is cold but great."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas shakes his head, ignoring the fact that Phoebe and Zatanna are leaving and the arrival of Cael. Hey, she's all but lumped in with the rest of them by now, super powers or no, she's at least attached to the JLD she can watch them deal with their dirty laundry with the rest of them.

    "Jon... no..." he pushes away from the bar and tried to follow the man to the back room. "You... look...I'm... I'm..." he take a breath. "I'm sorry. Okay. You're..." he glances at the door where the other two departed. "You're right and I was a fool to defend it's actions. But... I didn't really know the extent of it... until now... and that's..."

    He looks at the Archivist with a frown. "And that's because you helped me see. What I did to you... wasn't mind control. What I defended it doing against you... that was all me. All big, blind, stupid me. And for that... I don't know how to make it up to you, but I'm trying."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael watches Sims fold in on himself - and her form stills for a moment, a conflicted expression crossing her features for a moment. She has no idea what she just piled in on - and she's starting to regret it.
    Maybe Chas has got it handled, though, and she doesn't need to worry about it?
    "Hey, Sims, what're you having? I'll top you up," she offers instead, as she starts towards the bar, apparently intending to just help herself. Hell, it seems like that sort of place - and if it ain't, Chas is going to have to quickly disabuse her of the notion.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It's fine, Chas," Jon says, leaving the door to the back room open while he pops in to grab his notebooks off the table back there. "She's right. I shouldn't have... not in front of her. I should've just... it's fine. It's over, it's done with. We're moving on. Thank you, for trying."

    He comes back out into the other room, carrying the notebooks. "I'm having coffee, Becker. I'm working." He's closed up entirely, in a way Cael's never seen but Chas might recognize. When Jon's /really/ hurt, he buries himself in work. "We have two days to figure things out, and... mind control?" He frowns at Chas. "What are you talking about?"

    While he waits for an answer, he hands Cael one of the notebooks. A list of names, with notations beside each. Jon's own name is there, with a note that says 'for completeness' sake', and there are other names Cael might or might not recognize, including much of the roster of the JL Dark. Most of them have notes like 'motive??' or 'not that stupid' beside them. 'Phoebe Beacon' has 'acting oddly' next to hers, and 'Frances Chandler' has 'questionable judgement' next to his.

    Well, then. Everyone in the room but Cael was on the suspect list. No wonder Jon's on edge.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns at Jon's complete closed state and sighs. "What that thing did to me a lot of the time..." he says. "What you said I did to Miss Martian... I barely remember it. It's all a haze. I remember being angry at her for... being Meggan's friend... of all things."

    He eyes Cael and opens his mouth before just shrugging. He'll set ground rules another day. "Same with Dr. MacIntyre and her boyfriend. Angry because she brought something I perceived as dangerous because it wasn't human into the bar... how could I have known it wasn't human, Jon? He looked human to me. Not like I have Sight or the ability to perceive what a person is just from a look alone."

    He gestures to his head. "That thing. It had me on puppet strings to deal with it's problems when it didn't want to or to back it up even irrationally when something it didn't like was going on. As for when you say things..." he shakes his head. "That's what teams *do*... if we got problems we deal with it together openly. I'll talk to Phoebe about the same thing. If we're going to be a team we need to *act* like it in every way that comes with it. She can't just... storm out of here like that when things get tense. Psychological trauma or not. You didn't make me doubt myself... you opened my eyes to something I hadn't seen before."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Coffee it is," Cael agrees. She retrieves the pot of coffee, refilling Jon's cup, and pouring a mug for herself. She doses her own coffee with some whiskey from a flask inside her jacket, and while she eyes Jon's cup - strongly considering adding a splash, she decides that's definitely crossing a line.
    She'll leave the flask with its 'meh' engraving sitting on the table, though, as a silent offer. Just a splash won't impact his work, after all.
    "Life was simpler when all I had to worry about was drug deals, witness tampering, and the racing scene," she remarks as she studies the list of names. She taps Strange's name and adds, "This was the guy who shattered into chunks."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I know," Jon says to Cael, idly, as he sits back down. "I've met him, since. He wouldn't do this, but Pezzini said she doesn't know any of it so I'm trying to be... thorough."

    He sighs, and stares down at his coffee, attitude still closed off and closed up. "What do you want to do, Chas? Air all the dirty laundry? Should I sit and tell everyone what that thing did to me, in detail? Should Meggan? Should we tell Phoebe that you've been mind controlled? That'll go well--she already thinks nobody trusts her."

    Something in his voice hardens. "What a /team/ would do, would be to see to the wellbeing of all of its members. That means /everyone/ involved, including you. Has anyone bothered to ask how you're doing, Chas? Has John, or Zatanna?" He looks over at his friend, raises a brow. "I haven't checked in on you enough, and I should have, but I'm not /leading/ this... cat herding endeavor." A pause. "I'm here because I care about everyone involved, but we've got a /long/ way to go to be a 'team.'"

    He gives Cael a wry look, then says, "Sure you want to stick around? I /do/ hear we're going to have /lovely/ banners."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas shakes his head. "I'm fine. I mean... I will be... eventually..." he says turning slightly away. "John's been... busy. Zatanna's picking up the pieces of what that thing did to Phoebe... mentoring her and all... I'm a grown man. I can handle...." he pauses. "Well... I will handle things well enough."

    He moves back to behind the bar. "Not like I'm out there fighting against an angel... or anything else. Of the team, I have the most free time to process and move past all this." He considers Jon's suggestion. "I... I just feel that a lot of what that thing did to us... all of us... should be laid out. Not to John, not as sins of his..." even though he *created* the damn thing, "but... so we're aware of the scars we carry."

    He shakes his head. "I'm just grasping for my own place in this... I'm not leading either. Honestlty, I think the majority of that will fall to Zatanna... in the end. Given John's propensity to lead is inversely proportionate to the amount of booze he's got in him at any given point."

    He sighs again and gets a glass of water before adding. "Ban-*ner.* Singular. Bloody thing's aren't cheap and we're not exactly funded by the Justice League yet. And as you can see..." he gestures to the bare and empty bar, "business is just booming here." The sarcasm is thick on that last as he starts to drink the water.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Okay, so... what thing, and can I shoot it?" Cael asks simply, with her gaze still on the list of names.
    It's a little unclear if she's asking permission, or asking if it's possible. Honestly, it's a toss up.
    "Honestly, banners are over-rated. Other than Bruce. Holy shit, that guy picked me up - pulled me out of a collapsed brick wall once - I nearly had a heart attack." Thankfully, the Hulk did not smash.
    "Did you and Sara work out anything approaching a plan? We have what - two days, tops, before it claims another victim?" She lifts her gaze to look at Sims now as she asks this, before adding, "Put in just a splash of the whiskey, Sims. Not like anyone's here to judge us - and a splash won't affect your work. Hell, if it helps you ease up a little, it might improve it."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "The demon meat-puppet that impersonated Constantine," Jon says to Cael. "We have to track it down first. And there are other people in line first." Himself, for one, though he won't /say/ that.

    "No plan as of yet!" Jon says in a sarcastically over-chipper voice. "Most of the information on fighting angels is... don't!" He grins, even so briefly, then sobers. "Barring that... negative energy can hurt them, and theoretically outlasting one would leave it vulnerable. They can be bound within greater circles, written in reverse and infused with negative energy. John might know how to do that--I need to ask him. And if we could convince it to depart, that its task would be better served elsewhere, well... Chas isn't /wrong/ that it'd leave. I'm just not certain how to... do that."

    He sighs. "Pezzini rather insisted she be bait, if anyone is going to be. I'd like to see about mystical trackers, but Zatanna left before I could manage. Maybe we'll just wing it and pray." That's a joke, right? It has to be a joke. "Suppose I don't blame them all for avoiding the place. John and Zatanna included. But I have to figure this out, and there's only /one/ thing that takes higher priority, just now. And, no, Becker, if I start drinking I won't stop, and I'll get belligerent, and we don't /need/ that right now. We need to focus."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas listens to Jon's explanation and sighs. "How do we get ahold of negative energy?" he asks. "Is that something sorcerer's can do?" He drinks more water. "You're making a presentation on this stuff tomorrow, right, Jon?" he asks. "Just so the rest of the group can possible put in their two pence on the matter?"

    He wasn't suggesting that the man does--not his place--but if Jon wanted to... if might be a good idea. "And yeah..." he says, glancing at Cael. "Looks like Constantine but necrotizing and zombiefied, skulks in the shadows. Capture, don't kill. For now." He shrugs and wipes at his face. "I... I need a shower..." he says, looking at his silver polish-stained hands and a good book. He tosses a set of keys to Jon. "Spares. Lock up behind you when you leave?" he asks or come pound on my door and I'll do it. Either way works." He unties the apron and removes it before heading toward the backroom, presumably to the stairs up to his own loft above the bar.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael nods to Chas, looking between the two of them as they talk about the Constantine-imposter. "Well ain't that a kick in the head," she mutters. "Alright. I'll shoot for the kneecaps. Preacher Book has things to say about that."
    She takes a sip of her coffee, her gaze locking onto Jon, and her expression guarded. "No one's being used as bait until we have a safety plan figured out. We don't risk our people without doing everything we can to mitigate that risk. Even with the stakes this high."
    After another sip she adds, "So what can I do to help?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon catches the keys and nods, sticks them in his pocket. He sighs. "I need a bite." He's /not/ going to eat the falafel Phoebe took away.

    He turns to Cael. "C'mon, there a great kebab place around the corner, best you'll get this side of Istanbul. Take a walk with me and give me a fresh set of eyes on this business... you may not know magic, but you know stings and takedowns and safety plans. Let's figure out how to be sure everyone comes out of this alive."