Owner	Pose
John Constantine	It's night two that the little bar in Hell's Kitchen is open for business, and what a night it is! The place is packed, almost standing room only. Makes a person wonder if that conman, Constantine staged last night's attack, started the rumors and let them fly, merely to draw interest to the place? Would anyone put it past him.     It's likely that half those present this evening came to either watch him die, or lend a hand if it happens again. It's also like that the two crowds could totally flip-flop their ideology by tomorrow morning.     John himself? Well, he's seated at the bar, on that stool that everyone else always seems to find tainted, too filthy and wrong to sit upon. Makes one wonder what that arse leaves behind in his wake after sitting there too long.     Of course he has a bottle next to his glass on the bar. He'd have to employ a tender just to tend to him if he didn't just keep the bottle. Smoke from his lit Silk Cut trails lazily toward the ceiling. It's currently dangling between his lips.     Oh, and for the record, the wards are back up and fired, even stronger than before. ... and it's unlikely that he'll short-cut them down again, ever. Because? Last night sucked.
Lara Croft	Lara's loft apartment is in Greenwich which is not that far from Hell's Kitchen. When she caught word of some events happening at this location this morning she thought she'd come by and check it out... Being in the W.A.N.D. division of SHIELD, Lara's come to find herself skirting around on the magical edge of the world. She's begun to dip her toes in to the art herself, though she certainly wouldn't call herself a practitioner a tthis stage, maybe someday! The young woman comes down the six steps in to the pub and gives a look around, her hands on the black nylon strap of the messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She's wearing a white button down shirt over a black tanktop, the white shirt only buttoned halfway up her torso. Its left untucked over a pair of dark grey hiking trousers and a pair of dark boots on ehr feet. The sleeves of her white top are rolled up to her elbows, and she's got her dark hair tied back behind her shoulders in to a loose pony tail. The place is packed, and she smiles softly at the sight of it, starting to make her way toward the bar, weaving through the crowd....
Meggan Constantine	The grand opening of a place like the Laughing Magician probably involved a fire-eater, some kind of hokey card tricks, and a couple of bros getting their asses handed to them by the unamused clientele not amused by pickup lines involving pulling things out of hats or boxes. True to fact, Meggan knows how the whole business in Hell's Kitchen unrolled. That's why, until not very long ago, she was curled up asleep on par with Ozymandias somewhere not in the Kitchen. A nice, sandy blanket or the endless baking sun might be responsible for replenishing extreme energy loss to a point where she can tackle the day. Then all it takes it is an open door, an incongruous jump from there to here, and the blonde environmental activist and her several-odd million social network followers get a glimpse of a selfie snapped against a new mural shouting for a new world order. Trees atop buildings, that's kind of with it. Down with the plutocrats, and several of those crushed towers bear familiar logos on them. A raven opts to stand on a lightpost and croak at her. "Yes, yes," Meggan wearily says. "You were supposed to *warn* me of trouble last time! Where were you?" The raven's laughter chuckling through the open door is exactly what announces her entrance, the hubbub already announced by the locals checking out John's new digs swallowing her up. Her high-necked dress is unusual, layered golden cord woven around her throat and shoulders, the stark red shade swinging around her hips. They say there's no room for dancing, but if you sway and wiggle just right...
Nick Drago	Oh geez it's so good to get a break. Having finished leg 1 of the tour, the rockstar finds himself back home in New York City for a few days rest. A FEW days. But considering the added... complications to his tour. Those few days could very well be the difference between a successful second leg of the tour and a shitty one. As for security Mike's gone light tonight. Other than the flask containing his handler ant, Amadeus. (Thanks Hank) the ponytailed man is going solo. With no shows for tonight and with him being very careful with his powers usage and being VERY close to a lot of his friends location wise. He PROBABLY won't be getting accosted by his newfound hate club anytime soon. So... as good a time for a walk as any. And when the mind wanders, Mike ends up in interesting places. Which tonight appears to be approaching this new bar. Hearing the croak of a raven, Mike's head turns, looking towards the familiar looking form. There's a quiet moment where he just stops to look. Not saying anything. Just, sharing a look, before he finally steps inside. Pale blue eyes blink as he takes in the crowd. Damn. Is it half off night or something? Turning his head, he scans the room for a good spot to move to.
John Constantine	Meatloaf blares Paradise by the Dashboard Lights on that vinyl playing jukebox.     John air guitars on his stool a little bit and even sings along. Something most be wrong in the universe? Maybe they replaced him with pod person and his soul is finally down there, roasting for an eternity? From the way the bartender is side-eyeing him, that's not beyond the realm of possibility.     But make no mistake, half a bottle in, acting a fool... he makes mental note of every single ping those wards send his way and one ping in particular has him looking up from his ridiculous, impromptu, bar stool performance.     Meggan. Her ping is familiar to him, the way the wards warm... or something ... when she triggers them? It's just different. Coincidence or set that way? Is it because of who she is or what she is? Hard to say. Either way, tired blues find her immediately in the crowd, although he doesn't stand to approach. His tracking of the faeling has Lara on his radar. "Croft! I thought you bit it somewhere in Indonesia awhile back!" he calls out, joking of course, or was that a real rumor?
Lara Croft	Lara reaches the corner of the bar where she smiles at a couple of the patrons there who make a bit of space for her, a polite smile can earn you quite a bit in a place like this afte rall. She's placing an order with the busy barkeepers when she spares a moments glance around the packed joint. The music is nice, she remembers this song from a long ship ride across the Atlantic Ocean once. Random memories jumping in to your mind... She doesn't know Mike or Meggan, so they're just random faces in the crowd to the Briton woman. John's call of her name has her looking right on to him as he appears. She hears his question or comment and just smiles sweetly at him, though tilts her head a littel to the right. "You've been mislead. I'm here, I'm still breathing, and whatever happened in Indonesia, I assure you was a misunderstanding." She keeps it vague, its best that way... She then pays a quick look around. "Lovely place you have here." She tells her countryman. "I look forward to rating it on my bar hopping blog tomorrow morning." She jests, of course!
Meggan Constantine	Hearing name shouted and the recipient responding helps Meggan learn those new faces. So that person about to go on a ramble upstate is Lara. That guy making two -- no, three orders now -- for screwdrivers is Derek. The rock star over there is //hello//! An excited wave raised by her slim arm gives Mike a greeting that doesn't obnoxiously travel too far, in part because yelling over the music will do not much good. Musicians get the chill factor, too. Celebrities don't like being called out, exactly. Right? So playing that cool means turning and getting in the way of a guy with swept back, frosted tips carrying three drinks from cutting off the path. If Mike spots getting a hello, that's just good luck. "Ello ello." British as her accent is, it's not the cut glass that Lara can bring and an awful lot more like John's if John decided to take a sabbatical in the Lake District and fancy himself a bard of some kind. That's music of a sort. Easing her way through then after turning sets her on a path within line of sight of the proprietor, though the business for getting drinks takes a higher precedence than barging into some kind of conversation. "You've some kind of dry cider out there, I presume?" The call to the bartender positively glows with amusement. "Or we straight up out of luck?" Out of luck with the Laughing Magician in town? There ought to be the raven laughing its beak off inside, but it hangs out just beyond the door and eyes who comes in with beady, judgy eyes.
John Constantine	"Of course it was, luv. Naught at all t'do with dark dank caves and sticky fingers," John winks. Dude is just a little too playful tonight, really? But ... don't Laughing Magicians need to laugh from time to time? It's all part and parcel with the name, really it is.     "It really is innit?" he says with genuine sincerity, despite the attempt made to suck his filthy soul while he sat on that very stool (granted during the actual sucking, he was on his back on the floor but...) just last night. It's a bar he can truly call 'home'. Especially since his wardwork is re-worked. One where... well, everyone knows his name and either... loves him for it or hates him for it. There's not much middle ground there.     "I get that though, death rumors and them not ... sticking." Of course when it comes to him? Coulda been he really was dead... even for a day or longer, maybe a month even, but it never seems to stick.     "Meggan, luv," he greets when she approaches. "This is Lara, Lara Croft." Perhaps her reputation precedes? ...and wel, she's obviously never slept with John as there's no... underlying hostility dancing it's way through the conversation as their might be if Zee was standing there instead.
Nick Drago	It is indeed a busy scene inside the bar and the scan of the room does pause as Mike's eyes reach Constantine playing the air guitar. The rocker cracks a bit of a smile to the sight. Glance lingering upon the scene for a few moments before the movements end. His glance shifts over to the woman John looks to, blinking as she DOES seem to look familiar... somehow. It'll probably come to him in a few when it's too late for it to be socially acceptable to br- Oh. Well she's waving! He lifts up the scarred arm, returning the wave in a smiliar manner before he lowers the arm. Smiling. Heeeeeeyyyyyy. Fuck. Ok brain. You better be working overtime to produce a name because this is going to really suck if only one person knows who the other is. So... TIME to put on your thinking cap! ... Cap. Red ones. The music festival. Not one of the murdery attendees. Good. Names weren't exchanged. Even better! Friendly face identified, he starts to step over to that general area of the bar.
Lara Croft	With John's response to Lara, the young woman pays him a consistently even smile. "Expect the unexpected with you, John? Or expect the very much expected." She lets her smile shift in to a sly grin before her eyes go to Meggan when he introduces them. "Hello." Lara offers to her, extending her right hand should it be accepted, though she might think a place like this would have people not too in to hand shakes. "As indicated, yes, I'm Lara. Its' a pleasure to meet some of John's... firneds?" She asks with a glance toward the Magical Man himself. Lara's notoriety is fairly well known to those in the 'adventure' and 'mayhem' sphere. She was pretty prominently featured in the news a couple years ago with regard to discovering a preivously thought lost Japanese island, and, well... she's the Duchess to a British county too. But this is America! British roots or not, not everyone here knows those things! Mike is noticed and Lara does recognize his face... or feels as though she does as he draws closer. She looks back to John then. "Does owning a bar mean you're settling down?" She asks him for good fun.
Meggan Constantine	Wait, is this Cheers and no one told Meggan or half the other guests? Who plays Frasier? Or Norm? Some of the patrons probably just ended up in here following their buddies. Or a girl in a short red dress, that can do the trick a lot of the time, counting on a foamy ale at the end of the journey. The wait for her drink affords the ability to participate in a conversation, falling inward once John breaches the perimeter of a chat with the famous explorer with the best braid this side of Pippi Longstocking. A warm smile initially set on friendly brightness gets cranked up to gas setting 6, shining with its own particular delight. "Meggan Puceanu," she reciprocates with an introduction. Hand shaken by her own, the warmth in her skin probably hides the strength underneath. "I've heard that name before. Do you really get to go on that many digs with rotting rope bridges?" Her eyes widen with the enthusiastic musing of someone who clearly gets her news from the telly or online. Or really has an appreciation for that sort of exciting lifestyle. Who wouldn't? "Friend of John's? Enchanted, really." No signs of red caps in here. In fact, the only weird arcane signature belonging to the fae at any high level is that blonde herself, mingling with the wards bubbling away around them. "Great turnout, isn't it? You must be chuffed," she adds for the magus. Back over her shoulder, she checks the door and then up to the bar in case an irritated server has her cider and waits for her to actually pay attention to get it. She can't very well float it over to herself, can she? There may be rules posted... A stifled laugh bubbles up at the notion of settled. Oh dear.
John Constantine	The jukebox choice switches to 'I Want You to Want Me' by Cheap Trick. ... maybe after John waved a little gesture in its direction? ... or was he just waving some of the smoke from his ever present Silk away.     Either way, intent or happenstance, John really seems to like this song. He starts tapping fingers away on the bar's top when it starts and then it's full blown 'air drums' and ... singing. He does it quite well, he even hits the high notes well. If those worn, faded denim blues of his linger just a little too long in Meggan's direction during this little outburst, surely it's just coincidence and not too much should be read into it, right? Right.     But his second impromptu performance of the evening is interrupted by Lara's comment. "Doesn't expecting the unexpected make it expected or sommat?" he asks.     "Pretty sure half'm are here to see if someone succeeds tonight?" he asides to Meggan in a voice just loud enough to carry over the noise.
Nick Drago	As Mike makes his way through, coming close enough to where the first friendly was identified he makes note of her being in conversation and turns towards the bar to put his drink order in. As he turns, the glimpse of Lara comes across his eyes, causing for him to look to her curiously. Another familiar face. This one was even easier to remember. For not only did that one involve a fight, but it also had that horrid stench, and the stop sign hoverboard. He gives Lara a nod of greeting before leaning in to the bar, getting the order for a Guinness in once he has the bartender's attention. The movement to the side of his vision draws his attention once more towards Constantine. The display of air drumming and vocals does earn the laughing musician something he's probably not getting much of these days. A look of approval. The tail end of the conversation does get met with some curiousity however. "Succeed at what?" Pardon him. He just came back to town.
Lara Croft	Lara accepts her mug of apple ale when it arrives at the bar from the tender. She lifts it up to her lips for a sip from the brim before she lowers it once more and smiles toward Meggan. "Rope bridges, musty tunnels, endless deserts, and seemingly no end to long winded lectures from dogmatic colleagues that refuse to believe anything that diverges from their age old beliefs about the origin of any given ancient society. That's my field of passion..." She says with a loving sarcasm dripping from her otherwise normally calming tone! "I jest, of course, I really do love my work, and I'm... well I'm honestly unable to often pull myself to places like this to find a moments respite." She glances toward John who's already rocking out on the bar to his new song. She grins softly at him. "In fact, I am partly here for work. I brought a book, I was hoping you could take a look at it before the night is over, John. A Grimoire. I can't tell if its a reprint or a first edition, so to speak, due to the mirky nature of its origins... but... yes.... doesn't have to be now." She states, raising her drink up for another sip. Her eyes go back to Mike then and when they make contact with one another she nods once to him. "I haven't seen our Strange friend in some time." She comments, speaking of the SS himself, of course.
Meggan Constantine	Robin Zander crooning over a riff and the stamping beat from the drums gets Meggan dancing in place. Not really a conscious decision on her part, just that smooth side-to-side sway starting up as she catches the rhythm projected through the crowd. Her tulip skirt swishes back and forth to accentuate the movement, her blonde hair -- even more fantastic than Zander's in his prime -- caught up in the dancing for a pretty effect. Humming the chorus proves pretty straightforward, nothing too demanding for her to keep up with. It has such a catchy beat that she hasn't a chance to disregarding the music, though she hasn't stood on a stool or bar yet, so is it really that hypnotic? Maybe Grace Slick's psychedelic vocals are needed to manage that, as she taps out the beat against her wrists. "They should know better. It's their quid in your pocket, so no need to shake up their opinions," she quips at John. That's right, let the fools who want to see a lack of success be parted from their coin, and it's all legit business too! "Success at the place opening yesterday. Soft open. This is the real test, full day and all that. We could stand to have endless desserts and some rope bridges around here too. Not here exactly. But wouldn't that be fun? Mmm. Desserts, a desert mural, and perilous ways of getting there." Her interest is honest, bright and sparkly as it gets. When Strange is mentioned, she perks. Yes, clearly the totally normal environmental activist knows the guy. "Last I saw, he was offering advice for a lot of bigger problems. Sort of goes with being a doctor. Mister Doctor and all that."
John Constantine	... did someone say... Grimoire? To his credit, outwardly John is well, completely impassive and casual. In fact, he doesn't even address it immediately.     "At suckin' out me soul!" he replies, fucking happily, to Mike. It's all a big joke right? RIGHT!     He watches Meggan a moment or two longer before downing the full highball glass that's, thus far, been untouched. That one anyway, there were others before and will be more after. In fact he refills from the bottle sitting near the glass and finally address Lara.     "Have it on ya, ya say? Well, I can take a look now." Just a dude wanting to help a friend and Judas never had anything to do with silver. But he's good, really good, the best really, a master. So, REALLY, just a dude wanting to help a friend.
Nick Drago	Mike's eyes shift over to Lara, giving a slight chuckle to the mention of a Strange friend. "Neither have I." Mike admits, "Sometimes work keeps us too busy. Just got back in town myself." As the dark liquid is set before him, Mike sets down the cash for the drink right then and there so he doesn't need to linger longer than he wants to. "How've you been since the bridge?" A brow raises to John's answer. Smile fading a bit. Joke or not, the so called punch line doesn't really sit well with him. He looks to Lara, "How long has he been at the bar?"
Lara Croft	Lara's eyes go to Meggan who gets a big grin. "I would agree with that, but of course my tastes in decoration are a bit biased. On one hand my apartment looks like a mini museum, on the other han dit also looks like a storage locker exploded. Obsession isn't just a silly name for a perfume, it's also been thrown at me accusatorily on a number of occasions." She's taking another sip from her drink when John asks about the book in question. She pauses and sets the drink back down upon its coaster before she reaches for the black bag laying against her left hip. "Yes, of course. If you'd like...." She goes about digging the Grimoire out of the bag, but spares a second to look to Mike and smile at his question. "I would imagine he's been here at least a full fourty eight hour period... maybe more?" She spares a smirk at John before drawing the book from her bag and offering it to him, it being wrapped i na black satin cloth. Inside is the Grand Grimoire, Le Dragon Rouge, and a few other similarly silly names... "I ran in to a ... demonic presence a few months ago and I was unable to unsummon it." She explains to all listening. "I've been trying to change my skillset... so that I may make a better shot at it, should another chance come to me." She explains before finally indulging in her drink once more.
Meggan Constantine	Now that's just plain unfair. Bag a mage with reference to a grimoire, a rock star with a bridge story, and what's left? Cider as it turns out, delivered the last few inches by two patrons closer to the bar than is Meggan herself. She thanks both of them, leaning forward to make herself seen and the gratitude clear as she lifts the drink. A few drops spill to the floor, easily forgotten. Sorry about that, likely. Also pouring her offerings to the spirits of the place, an act of hospitality as old as it gets. Then the drink comes to her lips as she picks up on Mike's response, his reaction of an unspoken sort earning a worried crease to her brow. "Oh. I'm hoping that's not too much of an issue, innit?" The proof will be found whenever someone gets to their feet after a steady amount of drinking after all. The cider is mostly nice apple juice to her, though a 120% by volume whiskey beast wouldn't have much success putting her down either. Benefits to malleable DNA also mean no fun whatsoever at parties. It's lame sometimes. "Unsummoning's a really dodgy profession, so you know." She sounds softly worried. "Right easy to mess up, and the consequences rarely give a second chance without costing a pretty quid." She could go further but the exorcist who is literally the dictionary and encyclopaedic definition for not summoning or attempting banishments is basically in front of her, almost within aura range. And hers is most definitely rippling with worry. "I think your place sounds right amazing, too. With all those artifacts? It must be so interesting to remember how you got them all or what they mean, I imagine. If I tried putting things on the shelves in my place, I'd be falling out the window right away. No room."
John Constantine	Outwardly, there's still nothing from the Laughing Magician but casual interest, the sort of interest one might afford an interesting, yet not *intriguing* find at a flea market. He wipes his hands on his pants and reaches out to take the book.     Inwardly, Meggan... oh Megganh... always the seer of his truths, would feel his excitement. He places the book on the bar and rubs his hands together before holding them, palms out and down, over the thing.     "Show me what I seek," in Latin, a simple little incantation really, nothing showy or flashy, but he seems not to care one way or another if the mundanes that might be mingling in the crowd witness the book open on its own and turn to a specific page. Magic is real in their world as well, after all, it's just dismissed by their limited minds... whittled down to mere illusion and sleight of hand. This? Very well could be that.     In his mind, what he seeks, is a random page number, 43 in this instance, but it looks good, it looks as if he's looking for something specific to show him the truth of the thing. Beneath that incantation, beneath the show... he's reaching out with his mystical senses.     He studies page 43 intently for a long few moments, much like a jeweler studying a pretty rock beneath his lens.     "Sorry, luv," he murmurs, so sincerely and heartfelt. "It's a copy, wouldn't go so far as to say a 'fake' exactly, but see..." He points to a picture on the page. "This horn right here," obviously the picture one of demonic subject. "If it was the real deal, this horn would would be turned inward, the other turned out. And the ring through the nose would be black, not gold."     Lord but the man can pull some bullshit out his ARSE, innit true? But... the sincerity. "Wouldn't mind addin' ta me collection though, as a novelty? Ten thou?" ... the real deal, of course, would be worth many times over ten thousand. Many, many times over, not to mention the power imbued in the pages?
Nick Drago	With the approximate timeline disclosed, Mike's eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly. "You're kidding me." A statement. There is just NO way someone would be sitting here two days straight. Meggan's attempt to assure draws his attention to him. "I don't know." He answers, "Don't know him." So, no clue to the man's tolerance levels. But as the book flies open to a page, any possible protests or concerns to the time spent in a bar are quelled. He magicked after 48 hours in a bar with who knows how many drinks him and they didn't accidentally or purposefully die in the process. Alright. Good enough.
Lara Croft	Lara's gaze bounces from the book she handed to John back up to Meggan who gets a soft pair of quick nods from the woman. "I can only imagine, but at the same time... my run-ins with terrible such things is seemingly only on the rise with every passing week. I guess I'm in a bit of an 'arms race' so to speak, though that might be a bit over dramatic." She smirks very faintly then. "And yes, I'm rather fond of all the trinkets I've kept, as each one... rightly so, comes with memories of a wide variety in nature." A warm smile is briefly shown then before she looks back toward John. She observes how he's going over the book and watches him to try and gleam any methods of his madness on how he does this sort of thing, but it mostly comes across as useful as a Street Mime's routine. She gives a moment look to Mike and smiles at him. "Maybe longer?" She adds to the timetable for the fun of it. She's in the process of sipping her ale again when John gives his ruling on the book. It makes her lower her glass to her stomach level and her eyebrows raise up. "You're serious?" She asks him, waiting a second before continuing. "Shit..." She turns away to the side for a moment and nearly collides her ale right in to a person passing by, but reflexes are a God send in this case and she avoids the collision. She turns back to the bar and sets her glass down then on the coaster once more. She looks at the book and then at John, Meggan, Mike and the Book again. "Son of a bitch..." She says. "I'm gonna murder that Curio..." Uh oh.
Meggan Constantine	Meggan is not the sort of girl to bring to a trial or a poker game, just the same way that the justice system never intended on a precognitive or a telepath sitting in the visitors' area. John's excitement and delight are palpable, which is reason enough for her to place the drink to her lips -- a glass that brings a heady amount of foam for the crisp, apple-bright cider. The better not to give the gig away, she takes it slow to quench her thirst. But her eyes are bright. If he strays her way, she winks. Lara bringing the business means keeping anyone else away who might be a little too interested by a lull in the conversation. Heads turned or eyes in her direction as much as John's might get a direct stare out of the changeling to make them mildly uncomfortable. This is an establishment of a certain dubious quality. Fights can start by pushing the point a little too far. Down goes the glass, still in hand. A girl can never be too careful in public. "Now's the time to, if you have an interest. He has a broad taste in music, real interesting. Speaking of, ought to pop a coin in the jukebox. It's gotten quiet." "Curio?" The term lies there. "Like, the person named that or a person with the job?" Totally innocuous curiosity there; anyone else, it might be an outright lie. But she honestly asks Lara.
John Constantine	The Jukebox pelts out Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2. It seems to fit, dunnit? Could easily be Friday Bloody Friday or any day ending in Y in John's world, but the fact that he JUST purchased the real and true Le Dragon Rouge for a measly 10k? - because he's sure he's sealed the deal based on Lara's reaction.      Somewhere, somehow, sometime down the line? That little bit of Synchronicity will require a payback. Sunday Bloody Sunday indeed.     "It'll look nice on me shelf next t'some of me other copies, though," he prompts again as he waves one of the tenders over. This one? Is none other than John's best mate - and longest lived in his presence it might be added, that's saying something - Chas Chandler.     "Chas, fetch this little lass a cool ten from the safe, aye?"     There's a dialogue between them, but every word is unspoken, just made through pointed 'looks'.     -John, we don't *have* ten thousand in the safe. - But there's time, she's here for a little while, doesn't that Albert Bloke owe us eight for that banishing still? - Bloody hell, John, he's halfway across town and a pain in the arse t'boot, I thought we were calling that one at the five already paid? - Then maybe you should get on it, I really want that BOOK! (... folks, that's not EVEN telepathy, that's just John and Chas, not a single word, entire conversation). The best Cabbie, if maybe the worst bartender beyond highballs and tap beer, ever mutters under his breath, something about an arsehole and a whisky bottle and shoving one, but he heads on out anyway.     To his credit, John keeps himself in check, doesn't keep a protective, possessive hand on the book and just lets Lara take it back should she desire. Disinterested, it's just a trinket to add to a collection of trinkets.
Nick Drago	Mike rolls his eyes at Lara's addition to the time table of HOW LONG WAS THE BLONDE GUY DRINKING. "I get it. Right." Functional alcoholic. He watches the minor tantrum as she gets told that the book isn't what she thinks it is. Curiousity kicks in. He looks over to John, "So...that book has no use for her whatsoever?"
Lara Croft	It takes Lara a few moments to gather herself. Her right hand goes to her hip where she rests it there while her other is on the front of her chin holding her jawline with clenched fingers. She hears Meggan's question and drops her left hand from chin to her neck and collar bone then just shakes her head. "I... have been on a bit of a hunt for this book for some time. I had to acquire a number of things, deliver them to people and gain contacts, which ultimately lead me to a Curio shop in Metropolis' Chinatown..." She sighs as she stares at the book on the table while John makes his talk of money acquiring... She hears Mike's question and averts her stare to him. "As she said--" She nods toward Meggan. "The complicated nature of unsummonings can be even worse if you're working with an incorrect source book." Lara's hands both go up to her temples where she rubs them before gliding her fingertips down her cheeks and then folding her arms over her stomach... "I'll let you buy it if you can get the money before I leave, John." She tells him, not really assuming the man would out right lie to her, which may be more than a little naive... but she doesn't know him that well and is in a rather distraction filled location right now. "To be hoenst, I'm tempted to go back to Metropolis right now, but... I'll hold off on that." She states with a frustrated smirk.
John Constantine	"Even if it was real, it likely wouldn't outside 'o maybe gettin' her dead." But it's not so... "Even this fake could end that way if she tried t'spell anything from it." But really, he's a conman and a thief and a dastardly bastard, but John Constantine is not without heart.     "Wait, whoa there, luv? Y'weren't thinkin' on usin' this thing even if it turned out t'be real?" he asks, both brows shooting up over those faded denim blues. "Seriously, no... ya weren't, right?" He's seemed genuine and honest the entire time, nothing's changed, aside from his actual motivations. "If yer plan's t'use it, without... ya should just stop lookin' for the real deal."     Everything else is tuned out, completely, his focus is squarely on Lara, watching her reaction for any signs that she's lying if she claims she wasn't. Because, well, that book in the hands of the inexperienced and actually being *used*. Oh hell no.
Meggan Constantine	It's probably a good thing that Chas knows where the bodies are buried and has some kind of insurance plan separate from whatever the Laughing Magician probably lacks. The NHS is a magical thing but overseas treatment in the US, land of really expensive things, isn't probably one of those perks for working for John. Meggan is classically oblivious to the trouble being played out there, in large part because she chooses to be, notably by drinking that cider ane engaging merrily in the conversation. "Metropolis? I've heard some interesting things about some of the shops that way. One of these days." When not a flat-broke student, maybe. "I'm terribly sorry to hear all that effort went to nothing. You can probably smack around the chap's reputation for selling stuff that wasn't real, at least? Someone with respect in the community has at least some kind of weight." Her measures to solve problems where Lara is involved probably aren't much help, but at least the golden lines of sympathy underscore the rest. But John brings a point and she nods softly. "I'll say as much; trying to use a text to make something go away, half the time, makes it worse. If you live."
Nick Drago	"Guess 'No refunds' is the policy." He sighs, shaking his head, "That's got to be a pain, having to gather shit together. Assuming you have good reason to be doing that." Although, needing to collect all that that is helpful when the other option is accidentally lighting up like a holy glow stick. So maybe Mike shouldn't knock it yet. Right? The musician glances over to John and Meggan as they both warn Lara off against the magicking. Should Mike also throw his hat into this Magic or no magic discussion ring? He lifts up his glass, downing a sizable amount of the contents in one go. That is a no.
Lara Croft	The words from John and Meggan are both met with a soft smile from Lara. She shakes her head gently from side to side at them. "I was only going to study its contents, under the supervision of a co-worker. The book was a tool, apart of my job. IT's danger warrnts it be taken to a safe place, away from those who could do harm with it. I thought I'd... well.--" She cuts herself off there and shakes her head as she stands now ith her arms folded over her stomach. "I guess I drink free tonight, until the rest of my due arrives." She states with a smirk before giving the book another look. Almost like she's curisng the damn thing herself. She then reaches for her drink and moves to pull her phone out of her pants pocket. "I'm going to place a call, I'll be out front for a bit." She tells John, and now she reaches for the book, folding the cloth back over it. "I'll just hold on to this until the money arrives though." She says with a sweet smile for the man. She's not /entirley/ stupid! Right? Right?! She'll put the book away in to her bag again before offering them all a soft smile and turning to step outside through the crowd once again...
Meggan Constantine	Staying out of a chat on magic with John around is a sensible policy. Meggan does not define sensible, exactly, not by a standard that counts for much in the great whirlwind of New York affairs. Here in the middle of Hell's Kitchen surrounded by generally happy people who are a bit tipsy, she too exudes that bubbly happiness. Folks who turn their Friday nights into worship of the good times are good people to start with. Though Lara sends a tremor of regret through her, and she offers a sorry smile for that. Not entirely stupid at all for working out a deal and waiting on it, not at all, the encouraging nod for the recommendation the other woman announces meant to be that much more friendly. But truth to the moment, she eases back into feeling the fluid tides of emotion shift, still recharging after the regrettably rage-fuelled bender of the evening before. And besides, this close to the fire and smoke that is a blazing bonfire, she would just need s'mores to be content.
John Constantine	It's actually a surprisingly short amount of time later, a few dozen songs. The world's best cabbie knows how to get from A to B quickly after all. Chas also knows how to collect a debt. He heads immediately for John, actually with the book in hand after having made the transaction with Lara outside. "Albert wasn't so bad," he informs. "Bloke was happy with our work, honest. Surprised you managed to do what he figured would take a whole lot more manpower."     "What did you say?" softly. "Chas, you are a bloody GENIUS." John reaches across the bar, takes the poor cabbie's face in his hands and plants a kiss right to his old friend's lips - it's NOT LIKE THAT. It's just John, excited, light-bulb going off in that crazed brain of his... John. It's a quick smack on the lips, nothing more.     But it does, as it might with Meggan as well, pull a curse from the other man, "Bullocks..." soft, long-suffering. Chas knows that look, that excitement, it's never good.     If that favored stool wasn't bolted to the ground, it'd certainly topple as John stands quickly, new prize in hand and shoves his way toward that door marked Private.     Once there, maps are ripped off the wall and spread on the table, a pendant snatched from a box. Frantic, hurried, manic. His blood, being what it is, reacts differently to the scrying. When the few drops fall from pendant to map, the paper sizzles. A blackened trail spreads out in different directions, each one ending in a tiny burn mark, save one. That one spot? He *just* gets a chance to burn it (no pun intended) into his mind, the location, before a concussive BOOM of a sound and a bright flash sends him flying back into a wall.     *THUD* He hits hard. *THUNK* ...and slides to the floor. "Bullocks."     ...and the bloody fool left the door wide open for all and sundry to witness. Good thing mere mortals can rationalize just about *anything*, right?     But the mystical minded in the room are all eyes on the Laughing Magician. Some with concern, some with greedy intent.
Nick Drago	Mike quietly watches the show that goes on before him. The display of not to be misinterpreted (but still by some) affection, the eager run into the private room which is made less so by the door granting everyone their own magic peep show complete with some magic pyrotechnics at the end. If they factor in John's singing from earlier, they more or less had a bit of a rock show. Mike sets down his now empty glass, looking to the man on the floor. "So what was it about NOT doing that?"
Meggan Constantine	The resonating sound of the bang slackens several jaws and leaves a couple inebriated sods skittering off their stools. This is Hell's Kitchen. Sudden noises spook people, and more than a few pieces probably get drawn out of habit. The gangs fighting over the territory here haven't loosened their grip in a couple decades, at least not nearly as loose as newspapers say, otherwise they would have no Daredevil, no Elektra, no Kingpin. Among the troubled ripples moving beyond the initial point of detonation, Meggan takes a second or two to react. The curse of bollocks doesn't have to reach her ears to distinguish something is wrong. Neither is Mike's reaction utterly necessary to pinpoint what went wrong, or more importantly where. She forgets about her glass, leaving it on a table, the nearest at hand. Triangulation on trouble splatting the magician onto the floor has her sighing. "Would you tell me if he's still smoking? I've a bad feeling it might bruise dignities to look head on," she adds to the rock star.
John Constantine	He is not, in fact, still smoking. Perhaps a little fire and brimstone smelling, maybe a few of those spiky hairs a little singed, he might have some soot smearing his face, but he's not smoking... in the way Meggan is implying. He is, however, sitting sprawled on the floor, lets out and spread, fishing in his coat pocket for a pack of Silks. He lights up when he finds one, using a cheap Bic... he misses his other lighter, he truly does.     To the less knowledgeable, this is likely the reason some assume he's nothing more than a conman, a shadow of a hedge witch at best. He *looks* incompetent to those that have no understanding. No understanding of wards and protections and the amount of power it just took to scry through the ones in place at that exploding location on the map.     What is it then, that managed to have wards so strong that they knocked John Constantine, quite literally, on his ass?     Tomorrow will certainly tell the tale, be it one of blood... that's fair given his lot in life, even if it isn't Sunday.     "Could ya at least close the bloody door, ya stupid git?" That would be Chas.     ...and with nary but a hand gesture from the, now smoking, magician, the door to the back room slams shut.
Nick Drago	As Meggan expresses her reluctance to look in on John, Mike nods. "Nope. Not on fire." He confirms to the woman. He scrunches his nose as the scent wafts over. "Though he might smell like it. He watches as the cigarette gets lit. "Ok now he's smoking." He looks over to Meggan, "And If he didn't want people to look on, he should have closed the dam-" He stops as Chas brings up the point, instead nodding a head to him. "Ok. Now he did." Giving a chuckle he looks over, tapping the glass to ask for another.