10790/That's Bean Good Coffee

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That's Bean Good Coffee
Date of Scene: 19 January 2020
Location: The Coffee Bean - Manhattan
Synopsis: Sara and John discuss things over breakfast. Deep meaningful things.
Cast of Characters: Constantine, Witchblade




Constantine has posed:
John Constantine is hung over.

That probably goes without saying, but it is nonetheless an objective truth, inarguable, evident to anybody who sees him. The only obvious other possibility is that he's still hammered. But he'd be happier if he were hammered or, at least, closer to happy. He never gets real happy, gave it up years ago, like a diabetic left to scrape by on sugar substitutes.

He peels his face up off the marbled counter, running a hand back through his hair. He starts to reach for a cigarette then remembers you can't smoke anywhere in the freakin' city anymore and mutters a few exceptional swears under his breath in regard to the increase in tort laws and minor inconveniences. So people died a little quicker. Not like they weren't in for it one way or another anyway.

He snags a passing waitress by the apron, "'scuse the hand. Black coffee, emergency. Maybe eggs. Fried stupid. Lotsa pepper. Toast." he blinks blearily then groans as he feels something supernaturall powerful approaching.

"Please don't be here to fuggin' kill me," he mutters aloud as he peers at the door to await the new arrival.

Witchblade has posed:
If John's swearing, Pez is gearing up for it. It's the sor t that's muttered under her breath about lousy bosses, colleagues, and God knows who else.She /was/ on vacation. She was on vacation....and her bosses cut it short without giving her vacation days back. So she slides ino the coffee shop and looks to John, then to the waitresses and over the whole coffe place. She's been here before.

Settling into a seat a table or two over from Mr. Sweary Mouth, Sara looks to the waitress. "Hey, can I have eggs, bacon, sausages, and a lot of coffee please?" she asks. Oh, Pez is not happy, and the anger on her face shows it. She does though look to John. "Rough night?" she asks, her anger melting away for a moment. She's a concerned cop...citizen on vacation. Citizen. With a badge, and a gun under her jacket, true. Homicide's never truly off the clock.

Constantine has posed:
John's wizard enough to read the magick bleeding off her aura and scumbag enough to clock the gun and the copper's eyes. He manages a bleak sort of smile, something resembling one anyway. The corners of his mouth turn upward anyway and you can almost see his teeth. His puffy eyes ache and he can't help but wipe one.

"No worse'n usual, luv. Some of us is always gettin' battered about here an' there. Life's a game o' footy an' I'm usually the ball. Only I ain't seen a goal in a devil's age, just plenty o' dead grass an' the bottoms o' bloke's feet," he sighs.

He takes the cup of coffee set in front of him, inhaling the seem and then taking a quick sip of the searing liquid, giving a little grunt as it burns his tongue a bit. Probably good for him, really. Wakes up the senses. "Good cuppa, this."

Witchblade has posed:
Sara's powerful, true. She's also compassionate at times and has a black and white morality. "You need more coffee?" she asks, willing to sacrifice her own coffee for the greater good among people in need. Sara though looks to the waitress as she returns with one of the cooks. "Huh? Oh, I'm on vaca....yeah I'm Detective Pezini. Yeah, Homicide. No I can't help you I'm afraid, I'm on vacation. You want police help, call nine, one, one" she offers. "Though could you get this guy whatever he wants food and coffee wise? he looks like shit" Sara offers. Hey, he cursing barrer got broken days ago on her vacation. Sara's being brutally honest pre-coffee. Which is worrying, as she gives the cook and waitress a look. "Alright,I'll be waiting here" Sara offers. She's just given over her coffeee and convinced a lowly cook to get John whatever he wants food wise. Noting she didn't say the magic words 'for free', but she's got a trick up her jacketed sleeves for that one. If, and only IF Constantine's not got a record, and he can persuade her, she'll chuck in money to help pay for his food. She waits for hers patiently, looking around then back to John. "Oh you're English" she says with a smile. "You sound like those English guys on TV in those series, you know, the yes m'lord type"

Witchblade has posed:
Sara's powerful, true. She's also compassionate at times and has a black and white morality. "You need more coffee?" she asks, willing to sacrifice her own coffee for the greater good among people in need. Sara though looks to the waitress as she returns with one of the cooks. "Huh? Oh, I'm on vaca....yeah I'm Detective Pezini. Yeah, Homicide. No I can't help you I'm afraid, I'm on vacation. You want police help, call nine, one, one" she offers. "Though could you get this guy whatever he wants food and coffee wise? he looks like shit" Sara offers. Hey, he cursing barrer got broken days ago on her vacation. Sara's being brutally honest pre-coffee. Which is worrying, as she gives the cook and waitress a look. "Alright,I'll be waiting here" Sara offers. She's just given over her coffeee and convinced a lowly cook to get John whatever he wants food wise. Noting she didn't say the magic words 'for free', but she's got a trick up her jacketed sleeves for that one. If, and only IF Constantine's not got a record, and he can persuade her, she'll chuck in money to help pay for his food. She waits for hers patiently, looking around then back to John. "Oh you're English" she says with a smile. "You sound like those English guys on TV in those series, you know, the yes m'lord type. Only you're more sociable and honest.

Sara's mentally facepalming for that comparison, but it was the first thing she thought of

Constantine has posed:
Constantine grins a bit, "Only an American would thick anything comin' outta me mouth sounds lordly. Back on the homesoil, folks can figure out how much money your da' makes from the way you spit your 'r's , can pick the street you grew up on from the slang you use for the carsey," he shrugs. "Nothin' noble 'bout me, dove. John Constantine ain't nothin' but the lovin' world's punchin' bag. 'cept for the times I save it, now and again, then it might gimme a nice shiny penny for me troubles," he says.

He sits up a bit and rolls his neck, cracking and popping a few vertebra that had gone sidesaddle in the process of his drunk the night before, "Oh, that's a bit better. Now, 'fore we go too much further, I'd be remiss if I didn't ask exactly what sorta magical weapon o' mass destruction ye got tucked on that pretty carcass o' yours. Somethin' mighty, for it sings to me in a keenin' voice that makes my ears all ring an' I ain't felt a tone like that since the Lady o' the Lake smacked me on the arse with Excalibur when I tried to peek down her dressing gown."

Witchblade has posed:
"Same for us New Yorkers" Sara offers with a laugh. "Alright, I'm a filthy Yank, what of it" she shrugs. "Did you call her...what was it, a bint with a blade or something?" Sara asks. She's dodging the /what/ she is question. Instead, she fiddles with the bracelet. "Yeesh, if @m that powerful, wasting my time in the NYPD huh? Yeah I get that a lot from you magic types. Witchblade tends to do that" Sara offers with a worried look. "Why, you want to kick my ass for it or something huh?" she asks, defensively.

Constantine has posed:
Constantine snorts and raises a hand, "Far from it, luv. You keep it, more power t'ya. I dunno the deep lore, but that thing's got a nasty reputation an', if memory serves, it tends to favor the fairer sex most o' the time anyway. I'll make do with my brown bag magick and my exorcist tools, thanks all the same," he says.

"Prob'ly does put a bit o' target on your back, though, I imagine. Always necros and creeps lookin' to pick up any artifacts worth their salt and that one's in the god tier, from what I'm given t'understand," he says. "If you can handle it, though, you're a bad ass dame and no mistake about it."

Witchblade has posed:
"So you have split pea soup and spinning heads for tricks?" Sara snarks, looking amused. "I can handle it, sure. Just gets a bit awkward on the job, honestly. Though" she admits, tendrils creeping down the back of her hand, she's wishing the Witchblade would stop. She knows it knows about Constantine. "You're an exorcist, huh? That all you do, exercise demons and sleep in coffee houses?" she asks with a grin, looking to the coffee then food when it arrives. She slathers ketchup on it, and looks amusedly to John. "So you are? I can't very well call you Mr Exorcist, can I?" she asks

Sara looks to the food and nodsagain, picking up a fork she plunges it into the eggs and extracts itt. "I don't know the deep lore either. All I know is it's got a nasty temper and hates me getting hurt" Sara pauses, sliding the fork into her mouth and chowing down on eggs

Constantine has posed:
Constantine takes his toast and eggs from the waitress, using the former to shovel down the latter quickly after a quick spattering with black pepper and tabasco. "Ain't all I do, but it's the bulk o' it. Demons keep me dancin' 'round pretty well. S'why I end up around here, this place is so buggered up wit' devils I ain't got no need to go back home. Not that I miss London much. I got enemies there stacked up to my earlobes," he says.

To the last, he purses his lips, "Might be worth lookin' into sometime. Things o' power got a habit o' havin' plenty o' fine print. Hooks and catches. Hidden downsides and the like. Not that it's any o' my business. Just seen more'n a few get their souls eaten by tools they thought they had in hand."

Witchblade has posed:
"Who decides what's a demon, and what's an angel?" Sara asks between bites of eggs and sausages and toast. She's got a point. "It's all perspective, though. You think something's a demon. Others think it's an angel, is there any objective viewpoint?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. "If there's catches, they're small ones, like bringing swors out and skewering people in the mids of a brieifng, and such, and torching my captain's desk by mistake. Problem with things that key offa emotions" Sara admits with a look, then peers at her coffee cup.

More's needed. Way more needed, really. Pez is not caffeinated enough for this, as Sara shakes her head at Constantine. "Hey if I get my soul eaten, I'll be a more effective detective, I mean, the papers all say we're soulless cops" she jokes.

Constantine has posed:
Constantine drums his fingers along the edge of the countertop, "Ain't much difference in my experience, only not the way you're thinkin'. Most angels are worse bastards'n demons, ruthless an' self-righteous and not givin' a spit or a damn for the feelings of anything as worthless as a shaved ape human," he says. "Demons is the same species as them, just don't follow orders no more, but whatever side o' the war they sit, the thing they got in common is that regular fleshbags like us ain't nothin' but pieces to move around on a board while they try'n burn each other to scrag," he says.

"Far as I can tell, God quit a long time ago and Satan ain't nothin' but a half-dozen fucks squabblin' over ten dimensions worth of tortured burnin' real estate. An' every gun they know how to use has a human soul for a bullet."

"Sorry, probably a lot to have over yer mornin' black," he says. "Feck, I need a cigarette," he sighs.

Witchblade has posed:
"See" Sara points out. "See, you're right. Everyone's all oh the Good Book says. Load of crap" Sara offers. "Then they get to jail, find God. What's he going to do for somebody who shot their partner and killled them huh?" she adds. Oh she's totally agreeing with the British Exorcist. She's just,well, Sara. Black and white morality. Sara's liking John already.

"Guess you got practical experience huh? Half the force are church people. I am when I get time but that's more because I need something to keep me sane" she offers, looking unimpressed just a little at the idea of putting time and faith into things that aren't concrete and abstract is not her thing. She believes in the Witchblade after all. So...

Constantine has posed:
Constantine shrugs, "Church people ain't all bad. Plenty o' diddlers, but plenty o' good 'uns, too. Just gotta know which is which 'fore you get in the fire wit' 'em. Just another kinda magick, I guess, although there's don't work too good and requires more bowin' an' scrapin' than I'm like to do."

"I seem to remember somethin' about angels bein' tied to that thing," he says, nodding at her bracelet.

Witchblade has posed:
Sara shrugs, raising palms, the glint in her eye saying John's got a good point. "Funny how you know about this and others don't" she adds, sipping cofffee. "I mean, that wizard PI doesn't, ya know, one in NJ, he was all hell's bells when he figured out how powerful I was. S'why I like ya, you know what's going on" Sara offers with a look to her coffee, relaxing more. "Or in other words. You don't BS around. Oh and you got a pretty cool accent, too" Sara adds with a straight face.

The comment about angels gets her attention, "ait. Wait. Angels get attached to my bracelet? Say what now?"

Constantine has posed:
Constantine shakes his head, "Like I said, I don't know the deep lore. I just remember hearing about it while poking around in some of the Enochian archives. Europe's got a lot of old libraries. Medieval sorcery dealt a lot in angels and devils. Goettia," he says with a shudder. "Hierarchies and titles and spirits with a thirteen flaming eyes that rip your flesh just looking at you. What the hoodoos I know call bad mojo."

"Just sayin', the little I did hear about that thing, I heard from the Church."

Witchblade has posed:
"You mean I need to hop a plane to Europe and read stuff?" Sara adds and looks skeptical. Glancing up to John from her coffee, Sara nods slowly. "So I need to read up on this? You assume I can read anything on it without the blades slashing books to shreds" Sara ponders quizzically, like she knows what's going to happen. If anything, Sara's a little on edge and unimpressed. Though admittedly, Sara's also trouble, from a loose cannon cop, to, ah yeah, a lot of trouble too, thanks, Witchblade. She does though look over to John once more, another coffee orderd.

Constantine has posed:
Constantine shakes his head, "Oh, I ain't assumin' nothin'. You might need someone else to read it for you. And no, that was not me volunteerin', I ain't your huckleberry," he says, pushing up from his table a bit after wiping his mouth.

"Look..." he says, finally, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled up excuse for a business card, "This is my number. If you really wanna find out stuff, I can...poke around and see if anybody I know can help. I get around,' he says, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta soak my lungs in nictotine. This clean air's murder on me."

Witchblade has posed:
Sara scribbles her number on a napkin and nods writing down her cell number. "That's mine. Don't bother calling the switchboard, just call my cell directly. That'll get through to me quicker if you need anything. You need asmoke? Find a spot nobody can write you up for it. I won't since you've been nice to me" Sara offers with a nod.

Constantine has posed:
Constantine heads for the door, putting the number in the pocket of his trenchcoat. He had a thousand things in there, literally, but he somehow always found what he was looking for. Maybe not the first time, but eventually. Magic rewards persistence.

He pops the filter of his cigarette into his mouth and looks back over his shoulder, "I ain't usually the call the cops type, so you'd be a first," he says. He somehow left not only some cash but a generous tip on the table behind. Constantine may be a tatterdemalion, but he can usually scrape together enough to treat people right. He only cheats devils and bastards.

Witchblade has posed:
Pez left a good tip as well, and waits for John to light up, sending a text. She looks around and then settles into an easy gait strolling down the street toward a crossing. She can easily get to her condo too, with a nod. Thje text was for the local cops not to ticket John for a good few minutes, he'd done her a favor. Sure, it was a little shady, but it avoided hassle for him. Win win. With that...she's out of sight too.