Owner	Pose
John Constantine	Easy route, let the House do all the work. So it was from Hell in a Village to House and then to the backroom of the laughing Magician. John had that vial all safely tucked away into one of his many pockets. When they step through, he tells Jon and Zatanna. "This'll only take a second. It's just a matter of mixing this with that, not even a spell. Go get a drink."     Even as he's talking, he's getting together the few things he needs, the bowl, the ashes and the chicken blood. He's moving slow though, breaths still a little on the harsh side. "Go, go, I'm fine, I'll be out in a minute," he insists if they *don't* go.
Zatanna Zatara	Zatanna is too tired to port herself to the bar, preferring to clatter down the stairs to it. "We're back. Like you didn't know," she says breathlessly. "Can I have a bottle of good whiskey, please dear? Put it on my tab which I'll catch up with this week." She blows back a lock of hair, dusty with Nubian dirt and wipes her hand on her cheek leaving a streak.
Jonathan Sims	Jon goes, his shoulders slowly slumping as the mantle of the Archivist fades away, leaving him with the brunt of the psychological burden of what they went through. "Good /lord/," he mutters. "I need a smoke."     He starts digging in the bag he brought, he didn't use any of it but better safe than sorry, right? He fishes out his pack of cigarettes and the web-patterned gold lighter, lights the thing and takes a drag, then settles on a bar stool. Puts his elbows on the bar and his head in his hands, cigarette or no.     "I'll pay for the bottle," he says wearily to Chas, presumably waiting for them behind the bar. "And make it two, actually." A pause. "How's Phoebe?"
Chas Chandler	Chas nods as Zatanna comes into the bar. "Sleeping" he replies to Jon. "As much as I want to hover over her, I know I can't, she can't really rest that way." He leans down and produces two bottles of unlabled whiskey and two small tumblers. He also places an ash tray before Jon. He's not going to say no to the man paying for the liquor. But they are pretty pricey.     "Is it done?" he asks. He's trying not to show the apprehension in his tone. "Did you get what you needed? I just... I figure John's in the back room doing something and I don't feel the entire bar trying to rip free of its foundation so I just assume... good news."
Zatanna Zatara	"She's a sensitive. I only hope she can rest and be ready for what's to come." Zee gravely shakes her head at Chas, giving the Archivist an unhappy look for the cigarette that says, 'Not another smoker.' Pointing with her thumb upwards, "Do we leave him to it? I'm going back in case he needs a hand or something." She stops holding one of the bottles by the neck to answer Chas, "Well, Jon got it," with a quick smile at the Archivist. We poked the bear, so to speak," said with a glum shrug. "And yeah, he's doing something," spoken like she is telling them to hold on to their hats, it's going to get wild.
Jonathan Sims	Jon fishes out his wallet and hands over four fifty dollar bills. He frowns; there's very little cash left in the wallet. "I need to get back to work," he mutters. Then he shrugs and says, "It's... well. We got what we needed to save Phoebe, I think. The place was..." He shudders, taking another long, /long/ drag on the cigarette.     "Sorry, Zatanna," he says softly, at the face she makes at him. "It... it's the only thing that..." He sighs. "The Archivist bit, the... Stories, it's... a lot."
John Constantine	Seriously, all he's doing is mixing some stuff with some other stuff, it's not a big deal. Or it shouldn't be.     Everyone has a wall, a limit that they reach before the run smack into that wall and go down. John? He tends to have three, maybe four. He hits the first one - that happened weeks ago - falls, gets back up, takes three steps back for a little running start and then he plows right through it. He just hit the second one.     The sounds of things clattering and falling to the floor, books, maybe some glass jars, some stuff that's a little heavier? It's all followed by the sound of John yelling, "CHAS!"     It all happens as Zatanna is starting toward the backroom.     The scene now in that backroom? An overturned shelving unit, just a cheap job that one, Ikea particle board, overturned, partly on top of John and all its contents spilled all over the floor... and John.     What is that *smell*? Something nasty from one of the jars and he was complaining about chicken blood and ashes?     The irreplaceable mixture to save Phoebe is safe though, in another jar, on the table.     ...a beat passes before the yell of Chas's name and, "I think I fell down, mate!"
Chas Chandler	"If he needed the help, at least with this, I think he would've asked" Chas replies. "Alchemy isn't too--" And then John's yelling for him     "Fuck..." he turns and goes to the back. "Holy mother of God," he moves to lift the shelf off his friend. "You're trying to hard these days, John. You've got Z and Jon here to help. If you're at *this* point when just mixing..." He sniffs the air and makes a face. "Voodoo? Really?" he shakes head.     Once the shelf is back in place, he offers a hand to his mate. "I gotcha. Come on."
Zatanna Zatara	"Go figure, it's not like I don't worry about your health. Case in point, John is the tar lung poster boy used in medical texts everywhere." Gesturing with the bottle to the money on the bar, "I've got the money, Jon, I just don't carry cash...     She poofs out of the room before finishing her sentence. And picks her way over to John over spilled powder that smokes faintly. "I think you fell down, too," she says crouching by his side. "You alright?" She leaves Chas to scold him in his imitable way, hoping John will fucking listen for once.     "Yep," Zee concurs, and stands up. "We told you, we'd be here every step of the way. Just /try/ getting rid of us now."
Jonathan Sims	"I owe you for that business in Maine," Jon replies to Zatanna as he climbs down off the bar stool to go see what's happened to John. He sighs, folds his arms across his chest, leaving his cigarette in his mouth.     "He brought in Papa Midnite," he says to Chas. "But voodoo's powerful in countering this sort of thing, don't discount the power there."     He hesitates a moment. Opens his mouth. Frowns. Closes it as if thinking better of the comment. John doesn't need Chas /more/ angry at him right now, about the things he's been doing to stay awake and alert.
John Constantine	"I think I was at this point before the mixing started," John mumbles as the shelf gets moved away. "Only way, Midnite's Magical Potion of Black Magic Neutralization or some shite. I'm sure he has some elaborate pretentious name for it other than that. Name that matches his hat." He holds up his hand, a 'one minute' finger extended toward Chas that shifts to Zatanna next.     "Will be, one minute." He takes a few deep breaths and each one sounds a little like parchment paper rubbed together or dry leaves. Finally, after just about spot on a minute, he takes Chas's hand and stands.     "See there, right as rain." He pats Chas on the shoulder before picking his own way through the mess toward the front. "I need a drink. And oh, ummm... Chas, sorry about the walls upstairs. I'll have it painted or something."
Chas Chandler	"I don't have a problem with Midnite's methods" Chas says. "It's the smell. I'm going ot have to fumigate the entire bar once it's finished." He moves toward the bar again. "And yes, yes you are John. That was... I get what you were trying to do and that you were on a time limit. Just... make sure it's cleaned up soon as you can."     He moves back behind the bar and gets out some of the John Constantine Special Only Scotch, that he pours into a snifter and sets before John along with the bottle and another glass ashtray.     "So your following one of Midnite's receipes. What is in it?" he asks, looking between the three for whatever their answer might be. "I just want to know what we're supposed to be giving Phoebe." There is a definite Mama Bear vibes coming from the cabbie.
Zatanna Zatara	Zatanna rubs her eyes and temples, consummate performer that she can be, tiredness and worry lower her guards. She unscrews the bottle in her hand and takes a long pull from it, then wipes her mouth, shuddering.      The image of the real John on the astral plane is something she will share with the others in privacy. She won't ambush John with it here.     Not now.     He has too much on his plate. Backing up a step to give him room, "Here is a proposition. Delegate. Tell us how you plan to mix this and I believe that between Jon and I, we have the steady hands to do it."
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at Zatanna for a moment. Opens his mouth as if to disagree with her, then frowns. "/Can/ we do it? Or does it have to be John? The.. parental energy there?" He's back far enough not to crowd, shoulders hunched a bit to not be looming over Zatanna /quite/ as much. "If we can, I'm willing to help." Well, of course he is. He always is.     To Chas he says, "Not sure what all else, but Phoebe's birth mother... her ghost gave me a piece of her essence. Right from her heart, the /ib/." He... chokes a little on it. "S-she... the /ib/ is /essential/ to survival in the afterlife. It's..." He shakes his head. He can't quite... explain what all it means, but he's also not /surprised/. What would a parent do for their child, after all?
John Constantine	"Right, mate, soon as I fuckin' can ... how about... half past the world's ending again. Or I know, maybe a quarter past someone's trying to kill our kid? Or, my personal favorite, Renee called and she needs money for Sprouts dance outfit thingy or something. Why the fuck is she calling *me*?" John snarks. Because that's what Johns do, they snark. They don't talk about, they shove it down and ... snark.     "It's mixed, it just has to sit. It was *just* mixing. Just got a little dizzy after." John tosses back the first drink like a dying man in the desert with a glass of water. Apt simile that, innit?     In a little tantrum of proving his point, he flicks a hand toward the jukebox and sets the thing to *blaring*, 'It's the End of the World as We Know it', by R.E.M. "And I feel *fucking fine*," he singsongs as he tosses his hands up and out a little. "Just some burned Phoebe bits, some chicken blood and a little of her dead mum's essence. Told you, simple mixing."
Zatanna Zatara	On another day, Zatanna would laugh and shrug at John's tantrum that reminds her of a three-year old yelling, "I can do it by myself" as he struggles with his winter boots. Not today though.      Watching John's tells, she feels like the biggest shill in the world when it dawns on her how John has kept himself going all this time. It's /NOT/ just magic you silly Pollyanana. Not everyone uses it all the time the way you do.     "Does Chas know, she wonders?" her eyes flicking between the two men.
Chas Chandler	"Half past the world's ending again, will be just fine John. And hide the blow, please." Chas says. He can snark too if he needs to. That's the relationship they have. "Aaaaaand... that's the smell. Burning chicken blood." He twists his nose.     He nods to Jon and says. "Thank you. Truly. For collecting it."     Then he fixes his eyes on John. "We're gong to tell her what's in it, okay? I am not going to lie to her just to spare her feelings. We'll tell her what's in it and that if she wants to life she needs to drink it... and let *her* decide on it." He takes out another tumbler, and pours something clear into it before downing it. "She's old enough to make that decision." There's a tremble to his voice as he speaks, it's an effort that he's setting down this suggestion. He would just trick her into drinking it if he thought his conscience would let him live with that decision.
Jonathan Sims	Jon glances over at Zatanna almost guiltily. She has good psychic wards, but sometimes one just telegraphs a thing so loud the local empath can /tell/. He hunches his shoulders, flicking the guilty glance to John, then goes to sit down.     "You're welcome," he says to Chas. "She's a good child. She deserves the chance to live." He unscrews the top on his own whiskey bottle.
John Constantine	John slides off his stool, snatches up his bottle and just... walks toward the backroom without a second glance. "The lot of you can sit around and powwow about shite all you want, I just want a bloody fuckin' drink without all it." He flips the room the bird and keeps on walking.
Zatanna Zatara	"You're welcome, John," she calls sardonically to his back.     Then, when he is gone, points a finger at Jon and Chas, "Can we have a talk?"     "Phoebe is nearly there. Do you think she will balk at drinking the potion considering how much she needs it?"     She is avoiding a harder topic. Zee squares her shoulders, shaking her head at herself, "How long has he been doing blow?"
Chas Chandler	Chas frowns and moves around the bar. "Dammit John" he mutters, "Wait!" He stops long enough to look at Zatanna. "Long enough" he says before he starts after the grumpy magus.
Jonathan Sims	"Zatanna," Jon chides gently, right at first, at the sardonic tone. He Saw enough to know that whatever they Saw in the Astral must have been /so/ much worse.     But then Chas and John are both gone and he sighs, slumps his shoulders. "More than just that," he says in a soft voice. "He had street pills earlier. I didn't recognize the type offhand, but I can guess. Probably methamphetamine and cocaine, probably a mix of other supposed or real uppers."
John Constantine	John stops, just past the doorway to the backroom, bottle dangling from one hand, but he doesn't turn around. "What *is it*, Chas?" That tone just drips with 'sod off'. But it's not aimed at Chas. It sure sounds like it is, but it's not. It's aimed at *everything*. It's that 'leave me alone' armor going up, clicking into place like plate mail.
Zatanna Zatara	Looking behind her to make sure John is out of earshot, she quickly spills the beans in a low voice, "What did you see in the Village? Did you really see John? He is masking what is really going on, did you know?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at her a few times. "I... did not See... I mean, I Saw him but he looked... normal." He rubs at his face and takes a long pull from the bottle. "You're going to have to explain, I /literally/ only figured out I could even See the Astral plane... what, two nights ago?" He laughs, wryly. "Good lord, has it only been two days?"
Zatanna Zatara	She smiles softly, remembering how bemused she felt while discovering her own powers as a young woman trying to find her lost father.     The smile disappears as she says grimly, "He looked no better than the mummies in the sand." She gestures futilely, "He looked like the walking dead. Wasted to nothing. Used up."
Jonathan Sims	Jon closes his eyes. "That... is about the least surprising thing I've heard in a while."     He opens his eyes and takes a long drag from his cigarette. "He wakes screaming every night. He's barely eating. The things he's done just in the last few /weeks/..." He shakes his head. "He's using up every drop of energy he has and then keeping himself awake and moving with drugs, he's not eating and barely sleeping, what /else/ would he look like on a mystical level?" He snorts. "I'm just surprised it didn't occur to me that he would."     He sounds worried. Terribly, terribly worried. But also... oddly resigned.
Zatanna Zatara	"Could you see him doing NA? I couldn't though it wouldn't be a bad thing. He needs to want to do this. He is his own worst enemy with the inflated ego of someone with the worst self-esteem. There! I've said it aloud." She sighs slowly and audibly. "It's part of why we fell apart."     She looks stricken at having said something so private, shakes her head in shock at herself. Then, grabbing the bottle off the bar, excuses herself, "I need to get some sleep. Now. I will see you tomorrow."
Jonathan Sims	"I... don't know. I... don't know how to help him." Jon's voice breaks a little, and then he clears his throat, pulls himself together, papers over the cracks. Finishes off the cigarette.     "Yeah. Sleep well, Zatanna. And... I'm sorry I can't..." He shakes his head. It's not Zatanna that needs the help.