Owner	Pose
Chas Chandler	Chas is in the Library of the Velvet Room as he said he would be. He'd given Jon the call only a few moments ago and sounded, distressed. Concerned. He had said he needed to talk to the Archivist and would meet him in the Velvet Room's Library. He sat in one of the comfortable reading chairs. Next to him, on the ground around the chair is a massive stack of books.     He has another in his lap and he pours over the contents, his intense eyes looking vaguely haunted. He sighs and tears his eyes away from the text that is written in a flowing curved script, possibly Arabic or Sanskrit. He closes the book and wipes at his face. "How...?" he says to the room. "How... and why?" he asks.
Jonathan Sims	Jon has to get to the library by coming through the sitting room, of course, and so it takes him a moment to get to where Chas is. He's dyed his hair since Chas last saw him, the curls falling past his shoulders now in teal and gold and blue all mixed together like colorful plumage. It's been a warm day in New York, so he's wearing a t-shirt and jeans and sneakers when he enters the library.     "What's going on?" he asks as comes in, hands in his pockets. He's spent time in the Velvet Room's library before, so he's gotten the need to gawk at the place out of his system. He focuses on Chas, walking over to stand near the chair his friend sits in, frowning down at him. "You sounded pretty upset. Everything alright?"
Chas Chandler	Chas answers by opening the book before him. It's in Arabic. He takes the top book off the stack and opens it. Mandarin. The next is taken from the stack and opened: Latin. The next he opens and the words aren't so much words as emotions in glowing golden geometric shapes. "I can read... them all..." he says softly. "And I don't know how or why."     He chcukles nervously. "I didn't even notice it until I focused on it and realized I was reading a first edition text of 'La Belle et la Bete.' I don't speak French, but apparently I do now. Along with Arabic, Sanskrit, Etruscan, Japanese, Chinese, and a myriad of other things including Enochian." He thumps on the cover of the top book in the pile collected in his lap.
Jonathan Sims	Jon raises an eyebrow. "Well, what /I/ want to know is why there's a book written in Enochian in the library." A pause. "/Proper/ Enochian, d'you mean? Or is it that knockoff version ritualists tend to use? Because those are entirely different things; plenty of people can understand the knockoff version, or bits of it."     He seems entirely nonplussed about Chas' revelation; he goes to grab a nearby chair and drags it over next to the one Chas is sitting in. After a moment's hesitation he opens the door to the sitting room with a magically-summoned floating hand, then uses the same hand to grab a bottle of whiskey (the one with the Fool label, anyway) from the bar--all filled up /again/ after he drank some the night before--and float it into the room. He closes the door again and then sits down, easily conjuring up a pair of glasses, each containing a whiskey stone. He fills one with amber liquid and holds it out to Chas, brow slightly furrowed.     "This bothers you," he says. "Why does it bother you?"
Chas Chandler	"It's the real deal. The words they don't... they're expressions of emotion rather than anything that most people would consider words" Chas holds up the book and looks over the nondescript cover. "It's a collecton of essays on the treaties made after The Fall--capital T, capital F. Rules for what Hell can and cannot do. I think Gabriel and some high ranking demon wrote it together. There's some Infernal script in here too. I can read that as well as the Enochian."     He takes the glass offered and shakes his head. "Because I was taught that all magic, regardless of how miniscule the power or skill of it comes at a cost. And I've paid nothing for -any- of this." He says setting the books aside one at a time. "I can speak all these languages. I can take a beating from a super-charged, rage filled assailant and bounce back in moments instead of days. I have a field of protective energy that someone trained by a demon, myself, and a slew of The Bat family can't get through. And I can break my daughter's jaw through the defensive measures of her own considerable shields."     He shakes his head. "And that's only scratching the surface of what I can do. I don't even know the limits of it. And I've paid -bugger all- for it. How can it -not- bother me?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon stares at Chas for a long, long moment. /Stares/ at him, like he's grown two heads or sprouted horns. He takes a drink in the middle of it, as if for fortitude.     "Chas," he says finally, slowly, "you hung on a door for four months. You had to watch your friends and your daughter fight angels to try to save you, and you could do nothing. You had to watch your girlfriend's pain and longing, and you could do nothing. You had to watch people fighting and dying, millions of people displaced as refugees, and know it was, if not your fault, then at least something caused by your actions. And that's not to mention the knowledge that Saint Michael used your body to kill nearly a dozen people and torture another almost to death."     He raises his eyebrows. "And now you're saddled with guilt and remorse and blame. You lost your home and your livelihood. There are people, Cael foremost, who blame you for all that's happened, whether or not it's your fault. Do you... do you not call all of /that/ a /cost/? What do you think 'magic comes with a cost' /means/, Chas? It's not just blood poured into a ritual circle or headaches or exhaustion. That's the physical cost."     He shakes his head, takes another drink. "What you know, you learned from John Constantine and people who work like him. John's strong, I don't doubt, but John's magic is all borrowed power. It's like the difference between a cheetah and a race car driver; the race car driver is going fast because the car goes fast. The cheetah just /is/ fast."
Chas Chandler	Chas frowns at Jon for a moment. "But... that doesn't seem..." He shakes his head. "It just doesn't seem enough. I mean, super strength that can override the power of a primordial entity. Knowledge of languages, some that aren't Earthly, energy projection, supernatural defensive ability that I don't even have to think on, healing ability... it all seems... I don't know, a bit much" he says, taking a sip from the whiskey.     "And I feel that's... like I said, I've only scratched the surface of what I can do. If I'm actually an angel now... one of the Hosts just... on Earth and with my own will... that's..." He shakes his head, hesitantly. "There is a reason they don't muck about on Earth anymore. They're too powerful. They can imbalance reality just by being in it for too long now... am I going to start warping things around me just by walking down the street?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon sits back and sighs. "If you called me just so you can have me sit here while you metaphorically self-flagellate, I'll conjure up a whip so you can get it over with and pay whatever bloody 'price' you think you ought to pay," he snaps, clearly annoyed. "I have too much else going on to sit here and listen to you whinge on about having /too much/ power. Or do you think /I/ didn't pay for what /I/ have, hmm?"     He frowns. "Wait. Did you say... broke Phoebe's jaw? Why on /Earth/ did you break Phoebe's jaw?"
Chas Chandler	Chas looks askance. "That's really the main reason I called you here" he says. "We went out the Kansas to just get a feel of the baseline. I can conjure light..." he holds up a hand and concentrates. A small orb of golden-silver light flickers into existence. "But my projection of it..." He tosses it forward like a bowler in cricket and the orb just floats forward slowly before splashing into a small puddle not far from the chairs and disappearing. "It leaves a lot to be desired."     He shrugs and continues. "We moved to physical prowess and she took a few swings at me and there's this... force field or shield of something that seems to just absorb and disperse any attack I take and then... she told me to punch her after she conjured up a pretty damn good shield and..." He shakes his head. "I'm strong, Jon. -Real- strong. I blasted through her shield like it was plywood. Barely even felt it myself."     "I know she means well, but... I need someone who might not have as much... direct stake in this." He looks at the Archivist. "If I had done anything more than a broken jaw? I... I can't even think about what I'd do or how I'd feel. I need someone who could maybe be a guiding hand in things. Maybe our powers are incompatible for using magic... but you have authority and power and can probably know when to dodge rather than just assuming you can take a hit. You're vision is a bit more... extensive than her own."
Jonathan Sims	Jon's staring at Chas again, sitting up, boggling at the man like he's crazy. "You went out with Phoebe to test your powers... and didn't bring anyone /else/?" He shakes his head. "Chas, there's no bloody way in /hell/ I'd risk testing your powers without someone else along, not until I'm certain about whether my barriers could take your hits. You're pretty much a Dominion; Saint Michael confirmed that. You can possibly go /nova/, Chas, if you're pushed far enough and hard enough. I'd estimate you could take out a whole city block if you did so."     He shakes his head. "Cael was right. Gods, she never should've been..." He trails off. No point in the self-recriminations now.     "I don't understand what you're saying, though. You... what, you want me to teach you?" A pause. "You were going to ask /Phoebe/ to teach you? She's your daughter, she can't very well be your /mentor/. And I'm not certain I'm a terrific choice either. I've only been at this for six months or so, whatever I knew about magic beforehand."
Chas Chandler	Chas shakes his head vehemently. "I wouldn't think of asking Phoebe to be my mentor. She's too close too... young. The power dynamic is all wrong. No..." he replies. "But Jon, I trust the head you've got on you more than almost anyone else out there. You're wiser than a lot of the old hands. And well... even if the magic doesn't line up just right, you're good with authority. You're the leader of the JLD that I know best and we..."     He pauses and gives the man a look. "You're my friend. I'd call you my best friend as much as I call John my brother. So... " he smiles. "I know you wouldn't think twice to kick me in the arse if I'm doing something stupid or wrong. Or getting in over my head by letting my daughter do a stress test alone with me in the middle of nowhere Kansas."     He sips more of his drink. "I spoke with Rien about limitation testing as well. She's the only person I know who can conjure energy from Nullspace" he says. "I need to know if my weaknesses are the same as those of the angels themselves. She's agreed to it... but I don't know if there's anyone who can truly teach me how to do what I can do. Fully." He looks askance and Jon would be able to tell that there is a lie in there. There is someone on Chas' mind but he doesn't want to accept or admit who it is. Maybe he's afraid to say it?
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at little at 'best friend,' and busies himself with pouring more whiskey, like he's trying to avoid actually looking at Chas. He snorts at something else in Chas' explanation and says, bluntly, "You /are/ an angel, Chas. If you want my help, whatever form it takes, you have /got/ to accept that. It may be hard, but..." He shifts a bit and looks up at Chas. "Saint Michael--the new one--told me that his predecessor hadn't anticipated you returning to Earth. You were re-forged to guard the Gates of Heaven. You have free will, and I'm told it's more complicated than I'm making it out to be... but for all intents and purposes you are an angel. A Dominion, specifically, top of the second tier."     He leans forward slightly, looking at Chas intently. "If you really want this... if you /really/ want me to teach you, then you'd have to /listen/ to me, and the first lessons wouldn't be about power and control at all, except in the sense of the most basic forms of controlling your own power so you don't blow something up if you sneeze. What matters is in here," he reaches out with his left hand to poke at Chas' chest, "not how big a ball of light you can make or how hard you can throw a punch. Everything else flows from that, from you having your head screwed on straight and your heart in the right place."
Chas Chandler	Chas boggles a bit at being told his power level is that of a Dominion. He swallows, knowing what he knows about the beings that govern the lesser ranks; angelic generals of great import and power unrivaled on earth. He takes a slow steady breath and lets it out. "Okay... accept that I'm... that..." he says slowly and cautiously. He frowns and looks down as Jon taps his chest.     "What do you mean?" he asks, his expression clouded. "Just... belief or..." He shifts in place, focusing his attention on his friend. "Or is it something else that fuels all this?" he asks. "Like... how is it you do what you do so well and so effortlessly?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon sits back and rubs at his face. "I do what I do so well and so effortlessly in part because it's in my blood, Chas. I'm homo magi, like Zatanna. It works differently than hers, and some of it's fueled by my gods, but magic is /quite literally/ in my blood. I was doing magic before I knew what I was doing, even if not very much. In my earlier metaphor, about the race car and the cheetah? John's driving a race car. I'm a cheetah. John uses spells and rituals to 'do magic.' I /am/ magic." A pause. "And so are you."     He frowns thoughtfully. "Look, this insistence you have about 'magic always comes at a cost'... where'd you learn that, hmm?" He raises his brows and sips his whiskey.
Chas Chandler	Chas looks aside again and says, not hiding the sourness in his tone, "Constantine. He always said that he paid a price for what he was able to do. A bargain. Cost for cost. The bigger the punch, the bigger the cost and he was often in debt up to his ears because he liked to squirm out of paying off his end of the deals he made."     He shakes his head. "But you're saying that... we're... what we've paid out cost up front instead of leasing and so we own it now?" It's not the worst metaphor in the world for it, and pretty apt from a man who drives a car for a living.
Jonathan Sims	Jon huffs out a breath. "I'm saying John bloody Constantine doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about."     He sets the whiskey glass down and stands, starts pacing. "Look, John talks about 'costs' in that way because he gets he magic by bargain from other sources. But what, you think demons are always 'paying a cost?' Angels? No. I say the same thing myself--magic comes with a price--but I don't mean literally 'oh I have to pay off a demon for the magic I do.' Some of what I do comes at a price, yeah. I can fly now, I heal fast, I have the Archive--and in return, I serve Ma'at, I cannot lie, I have to take statements."     He flourishes one hand, and conjures up a magical shield. "But this? I don't 'pay' anybody for this. This comes from me, and from the Astral Plane. That's why it's easier for me, in particular, to do magic here--all of my magic depends on the Astral Plane. But this barrier, I don't pay a demon or an angel for it. It's simple thermodynamics--you do not get something for nothing. For every action, an equal and opposite reaction. Energy cannot be either created or destroyed. In order to summon up a barrier, I have to use some piece of my concentration, my energy. Sometimes that's all that it is. Some things, we pay in blood and sweat and tears. John does too--he just doesn't /realize/ it."     A pause. "There has been a price paid for every damn bargain John Constantine ever made, even if he didn't pay it directly. You cannot get something for nothing. The cost he pays is in broken friendships and scattered relationships. In misery and loneliness, because he cannot be relied upon. If he finds that a fitting cost for power, he is the biggest fool in the world."
Chas Chandler	Chas starts visibly at the jabs at the man he calls a brother. But the sentiment is... not unlike his own these days. The man hasn't been around. Chas' himself has been back on Earth for nearly a month and the man hasn't contacted him in any way. It's... well, it's not gone unnoticed. He reaches up and scratches the back of his head.     "So where do you suppose all mine comes from?" he asks. "I mean, I bleed, so it's not like I'm made of the stuff that the angels are made of... right?" But Michael and the other Archangel's bled as well so that's no proof. "Am I just some sort of cosmic battery? Is there a limit? You said if I take enough I could explode?!" His voice hitches a bit at the end. "I mean, these are the things I need help with Jon and I'm just... you're the one I trust most to help me get through this. So... please?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon stops pacing and sighs as he turns to face Chas. "I don't know what you're... 'made of,' Chas, but that's not my point. My point is that regardless of what you're made of, regardless of your 'powers,' what matters the /most/ is what's in your heart and your head. Your mental state, your will, your ethics and morality. That's what I'm saying--if you want me to teach you, then we start not with 'how do I summon up a bigger ball of light' but knowing when and why you're summoning that ball of light at all. Theory before practice, to the extent that we can."     He regards Chas for a moment, like he's trying to think of the right way to explain. "Magic isn't really about spells or incantations or elaborate wards or any of that. All of that, it's window dressing. Magic is just a method for applying your will to bend reality. The spells and incantations, those are /tools/. There's no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' magic... there are good or bad /people/. What matters is your will and intention, and if John knows that, then he never relayed it to you, clearly."     He smirks. "What I'm saying is that if you want me to teach you, then you must unlearn what you have learned."
Chas Chandler	Chas blinks at Jon. "So you're saying there's a chance..." He holds up a hand and rises, setting his (now empty) whiskey glass aside on one of the surfaces in the room. "Alright. Unlearn what I know. That's not too hard, given I don't know more about magic beyond rituals and theory of rituals. I get that white and black magic are more about who the caster is rather than the power source." There's a haunted look, he knew that lesson -all- too well. Angels aren't all goodness and light, despite pop culture.     He sighs. "It's not about what I can do, but why I do it. You're talking about math. Weighing reason against need? Or does it go for small scale things too? Like you and the drinks?" he asks, gesturing to the bottle brought in by Jon's conjured mage hand.
Jonathan Sims	"I don't know about... math?" Jon goes to sit back down with a sigh. "I mean, I know people say 'don't depend on magic alone' but I've always felt that's more of a thing of not depending on a single solution to every problem. In the same way I'd say 'don't punch your way through every problem.'" He grins at Chas, briefly. "But I don't think using magic for mundane actions like floating bottles around cheapens it or anything."     He eyes Chas for a moment. "Alright, then. You want me to be your mentor, I'm willing. But there are going to be ground rules." He holds up his green hand, ticking things off. "No purposefully using your powers without consulting me first, at least until we've got a handle on them. Answer any questions I ask truthfully--I might pry, but it's for a reason. If you're not comfortable telling me the truth, say so, don't lie to me." He gives Chas a /very/ direct look. "If you deliberately lie to me more than once, then we're done. I'll give you one freebie, but Ma'at cannot stand for more than that."     After letting that sit for a moment, he adds, "I expect you to ask questions. I don't know everything, and I may not always know what's best for you. Push back if I'm being too hard on you. Call me out if I'm being too soft. I'm your mentor, not your boss or your king."     A pause, and then he smiles. "In return, I promise that I will do my best to teach you, to get better training and knowledge myself so I can pass it on to you. I'll be available to answer questions unless there's an emergency, and make sure I'm around for regular sessions. I'll consult with others--you mentioned Rien, that's a good start--to see to your training. I'll do my best to be fair in my assessments, and clear about what I know and what is speculation. I will not abuse my authority over you, though admittedly I'm not sure Ma'at would let me. And if there's anything else in particular you need, well, tell me now."     He holds out his right hand, to shake; it may not be the real one but this is the normal method for these things. "Deal?"
Chas Chandler	Chas takes a moment to consider the rules listed. After some internal deliberation he nods. "Deal" and smacks his own hand into a grasp with Jon's magical one. "One quick question on the outset. Do you want me to at least pantomime a normal existence? Eating, breathing, sleeping? Even if I don't need to do them? Cause... I can if that's part of the instructions."     He's still uncomfortable about those simple pleasures being taken from him. But he's getting better at doing them anyway, regardless of the need. He even drank whiskey with Jon a few moments ago without even realizing that the alcohol didn't burn like it should have and the taste was a bit on the dull side from what his brain remembers.
Jonathan Sims	"That's not really for me to decide," Jon says quietly. "That's something you have to decide. How important is all of that, to you? Does it matter that you don't breathe or eat or sleep? Would you feel more comfortable pantomiming a normal existence for now, or is it an effort? When I said 'don't use your powers purposefully' I meant things like throwing around balls of light or getting into fights aside from, you know, self-defense."     He sits back a bit and eyes Chas. "Alright, well, first lesson then. Tell me... what's changed, obviously? You don't eat or breathe or sleep. You drank the whiskey. Did it taste the same?"
Chas Chandler	Chas shakes his head. "No. It was duller. I could taste the sweetness of the drink. But there was no bite. No burn. Like... whiskey without the alcohol in it. I could tell what it -should- taste like... but it didn't taste like that." He shrugs. "As for what else? Physically I'm mostly the same." He pats his stomach. "Little slimmer in the midsection and broader in the shoulders. Or at least, Asa says so."     He pauses and considers. "What else? Oh," he gestures to the books. "I can read anyting... and speak it too, I think. If I put my mind to it. I'm stronger, obviously and the energy projection is new, even if it's more blobs that are more ducks than professional bowls."
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods slowly, taking all of this in. "I'm going to presume you have the standard weaknesses to negative energy and hellfire, but we'll want to double-check. The dulled senses... that's a bit odd. Saint Uriel enthuses at me about coffee and donuts so much that I'm surprised they don't ask the church to send tithes in donuts instead of money." A smirk.     Then they turn to regard Chas somberly. "Tell me, though. Do you really think that losing the ability to taste whiskey--and presumably anything else--isn't part of the price you're paying for your newfound power?"
Chas Chandler	Chas frowns and then nods. "I guess it is... in a way" he says. "It's annoying as hell that's for sure." He moves and sits down in the chair with a huff. "What's the line?" he asks. "'Phenomenal cosmic power... itty-bitty living space. Right?" He makes a soured expression and runs a hand through his long hair.     He nods to Jon's assessments. "I figure I have the same standard settings. Rien and maybe Robbie are good go tos for those right? Although, Robbie might not want to get near me given that I can hurt him just as much as he hurts me if all things are equal." He shrugs again. "Still... couldn't hurt to ask, right?" he says looking up at his new mentor.
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods. "We'll see about getting with both of them. And I'll want to see you do more of this... blob-summoning." He smirks.     A sigh, then. "My point, though, is thus: the concept that 'all magic has a price' is true, but it's not a simple matter of 'I use a pint of blood and I get precisely this much force.' It's like anything else--what you do affects all around you. You cannot bend your will to the world without the world bending back, at least a little bit."     A pause, and then they blink at Chas. "What do you know about kharma and dharma? Because what I'm speaking of is what might be called 'kharma,' cause and effect, that the energy you put out into the world comes back to you, particularly through rebirth."
Chas Chandler	Chas blinks at Jon. "I know it's hindu but that's about all..." he replies with a frown. "Constantine didn't put much stock in the Eastern religions for whatever reason. Probably because they don't have concepts for demons in the same way that the Abrahamic religions do."     He looks at the shelves. "There's books on them in here... I've glanced at them. But didn't get much further than a cursory glance." He pauses and arches a brow at Jon. "Rebirth? I don't follow..."
Jonathan Sims	Jon rolls his eyes. "Fucking white men, I swear," he grumbles, and gets to his feet. "Build your whole bloody empire on our backs and then discount all of our wisdom--when you're not stealing it to repackage it." But as he grouses he goes through the shelves, pulling down a few books. The Bhagavad Gita and the Upanishads, the Tripitaka and the Mahayana sutras, Siddhartha and Demian, Tao Te Ching and Zhuangzi. The Quran and tafsir, the Torah and commentaries. All in the original languages.     He brings the stack over to Chas and says, "This is a start. There's going to be a /lot/ of reading to do--this isn't even getting into the Greeks, or European philosophy, but you grew up in a culture steeped in those ideas." He holds out the books. "You don't have to agree with everything in here. But you need to know it exists. Read as much of it as you can in the next week and tell me what you think." He smiles.
Chas Chandler	Chas blinks at Jon and takes the stack of books. Then he laughs. "Oh God... he was right..." he says, still laughing. "If you weren't a therapist..." he can't seem to stop. "You'd be a bloody teacher." He nods and settles the books in another stack at his feet. "Looks like I have some work ahead of me then."     He glances around. "I don't suppose any of the books can leave the castle can they?" he asks, as if Jon would know. "I mean, I can speed through them fast enough... but if I want to really ponder on it, going to be burning the midnight oil around here for me." He shrugs. "I can send Asa a text and let her know where I am, if it comes to it."
Jonathan Sims	Jon glowers at Chas like he's suspecting some kind of mockery from the statement. "Takes notes as you read," he suggests, tone snappish, "and you can come back and go over them later."     Then a pause, and he blinks. "Oh, I... really do..." He reaches up and rubs at the back of his neck, embarassed. "I mean... look, I spent nearly half my life in academia, what do you /expect/?"     A sigh. "In all honesty it might be best for you to stay around here for the moment anyhow. Not all the time, and I'm not going to insist, but the you don't need to eat or drink or sleep, and if you accidentally catch a whiff of hellfire and sneeze or something the castle can take the blow."     A cough. "Which, ahh, reminds me. You and Asariel, are you... have you been... intimate? Is that... different at all?" He raises his eyebrows, managing not to blush about asking the question.
Chas Chandler	Chas looks at the stack of books and frowns. "I'm going to have to take notes. I don't have the memory I had back when I was on the door anymore. I get flashes of what I saw there but they're hazy... dreamlike." He shrugs and shakes his head. "I wasn't insulting you. I just noticed it and it fits. It's very... you."     At the mention of staying in the castle he nods. "You're probably right. I'll let Asa know and she can come visit me or something if things get too lonely for her." He snickers at Jon's mention of hellfire sneezes. "I'm not sure I'd be allergic to Hellfire, Jon. I think it's more that I can't defend against it like I can other forms of energy." He shakes his head.     Jon's final question causes his cheeks to redden significantly. "Oh... umm... well. We haven't gone... all the way. We're... taking it slow. It's been... well. It's been a long time" he quickly adds, "for us both. And so... I mean, I glowed when we kissed. Just warmth and light, nothing too explosive. That's probably significant though." He is genuinely embarassed talking about this topic with a man he can call his best friend.
Jonathan Sims	Jon considers that for a moment. "Huh," he says. "Well, let me know if it happens again? And the, ahh, context. I don't need details, but we should figure out... is it an emotional thing? A sex thing? An intimacy thing? An... angel-to-angel thing?" He coughs. "I'll, ahh, otherwise I'll leave the question of... what you and Asariel do between the two of you. You're both consenting adults and you, y'know, I'm sure Asariel knows more about this stuff than either of us, given... everything."     He eyes Chas. "Speaking of... you haven't mentioned asking /her/ for help. She calls the archangels 'Uncle,' she /has/ to know something about your new state."     A sigh. "In the meantime, I've got those Dominion feathers, I'll pour energy into a few and blow them up, see how they react and whether me and anyone else I can find can shield against them. Then we'll know who can be around for future sparring sessions. Rien and Robbie are both tough, but they already both died fifty eight times for the JLD, don't need to make it fifty nine." He smirks.     After a moment, more seriously, "You'll be alright. We'll all help you figure this out. Okay?"
Chas Chandler	Chas frowns. "I don't know that she'd be willing to harm me. Even if it was for my own good." He pauses. "And I don't know if she could. The angles were pretty No Friendly Fire during the war. I'm not sure if they can willingly harm each other... even those with a will." He shrugs. "I think I can ask her if I come across anything I don't understand."     At Jon's reassurances he nods. "I know." He thumbs the stack of books before him. "You know where to find me. I'll be here or... out there..." he gestures to the sitting room. "Studying away. I look forward to learning more, Jon. Thank you. Truly. It means a lot that you'd put your neck out there for me in this. Really. I appreciatate it."
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods, and stands, and goes to pick up the things he brought in from the other room. He hesitates a moment, then goes over to lean down and give Chas a hug. Awkward and stiff, like he's not entirely comfortable with the contact, but he's trying. He /likes/ hugs. He doesn't /want/ to not want to touch people.     "I'll be in touch, yeah," he says, pulling back with a smile, even if it's as awkward as the hug.