John Constantine (
magic_by_accident) wrote in
milliways_bar2021-02-23 07:12 pm
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John sits at one of the tables, smoking a cigarette and drinking whiskey as he contemplates the Observation Window.
Come take his mind off the end of all living things. It strikes a little too close to home.
Come take his mind off the end of all living things. It strikes a little too close to home.
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It is.
With a positively absurdly large plate full of bao he's just been served.
Considering the expression on his face, he appears to feel that it is, actually, entirely too much and did not make this life choice for himself.
He looks up from the plate, and seeing John nearby, offers a bao with a hopeful grin.
"Hungry? Bar seems to think I'm inhumanly ravenous."
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"John Constantine. What's your name, lovely?"
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Of course, if this is anything like that fellow in Lyon, Wei Ying is in trouble.
"Your bar to loveliness is low, if all it takes is some bao."
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The Observation Window is hardly cheery viewing, after all.
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Oh.
The thing is, he likes this place. And part of the reason is that nobody he knows show up.
He gets to chat with people who both believe him when he says who he is and simultaneously does not lose their shit.
He likes that.
On the other hand, yay colleague? -ish?
And also, knows who he is and won't lose his shit.
He ambles over, impeccably dressed and sharp-looking as always. Always being this past of his existence anyway.
"Still cultivating the couch-surgery look, I see?" he says as a way of greeting.
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He leans his hip against the table.
Smiling.
"So - I don't know if you're aware but this place is insane and time works - oddly. Did we talk in my doorway, say a year or so ago?"
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Lucifer actually looks good, and not twitlike at all. John would rather turn himself into a frog than admit this.
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"Good. We're on the same page and - more importantly - our debt is settled."
His smile brightens.
"How's the detective business going? Keeping busy?"
This is, of course, strictly a polite proforma question, so Lucifer can get to tell about his new gig. Don't elaborate, Constantine.
Also, the hobo look does suit him, but it's not like Lucifer is going to tell him that.
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John shrugs. "Not especially, no. I've had to get creative to make ends meet.
"I've a new flat, though. Won it in a duel."
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"A duel? Is the flat in the 1600s?"
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“Stella,” she says to the poodle, “this is John. John, this is Stella.”
Stella looks at John eagerly and wags her tail, but does not approach him. YT hasn’t told her it’s okay yet.
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"Nice to see you too, Miss Stella." He offers a hand for the poodle to sniff. "Aren't you a pretty girl."
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“She is a pretty girl,” YT says, sitting down an an adjacent seat. “But, y’know, every dog is beautiful in their own way. Even the the teeny yippy ones.”
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"I've never seen a poodle this color.
"Teeny yippy ones have some sort of redeeming quality, I imagine. Perhaps they're good at cuddling or catching bugs."
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YT did a lot of reading on poodles when she and her mom first got Stella. But that was a few years ago.
“Little yippy dogs are the way they are because someone bred their ancestors to be that way for a reason. Like, every toy dog breed is some combination of exterminator, watchdog, and low-tech personal warming device.”
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He goes on lazily scratching Stella behind the ears, enjoying the Soft.
"Poor dogs," he tells Stella, "getting so messed up by humans."
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“There’d be no dogs in the first place without humans,” YT says. “But we made them love us and then we do shitty things to them, like breed them in ways that make them sick or chain them up outside or put them in dogfights.”
And then there’s the Rat Things, but that’s a little more complicated.
“Stella was from a poodle rescue. Her mother was a show dog and the owner was trying to breed more show dogs, but Stella didn’t make the cut because her eyes and lips are the wrong color for a show dog, or something stupid like that.”
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He says to YT, "Aside from looking after your dog, what have you been up to?"
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