6228/Black Sky: Always a Bridesmaid

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Black Sky: Always a Bridesmaid
Date of Scene: 20 January 2019
Location: Hell's Kitchen, New York City
Synopsis: John drops by Luke's where Kate is wallowing over her 'breakup' with Matt. It turns out they have a mutual 'friend' in common: Elektra
Cast of Characters: Hawkeye (Bishop), Constantine
Tinyplot: Black Sky


Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
So, even though Kate knew what she and Matt were doing was a farce, and that it would end some day, somehow "some day" was always this imaginary date and time off in the future. Not like *right now* and certainly not with that lack of tact or lead in. Even if she had been planning the entire walk over to his apartment how to dump him.

And it wasn't like she could go hang out at Josie's and mope about the whole matter, because Josie's. Where everyone hung out. Him. Claire. Jessica.

Oh gods, Jessica would have a field day with this if she knew...

Which totally decided it for Kate: Not Josie's. Anywhere but Josie's.

And that, your honour, is how she found herself at Luke's. Anywhere but Josie's.

Achievement unlocked.

Constantine has posed:
Harlem wasn't one of John's usual haunts, but he'd done a bit of a job nearby and on his way back the neon beacon of 'Luke's' sign drew him here. It was several degrees nicer than the dives he usually hung out in (McAnally's excepted of course) so tugging off his gloves he headed over to the bar, "Landlord, set me up with a shot and a pint," he says as he settles in on a stool and helps himself to a handful of pretzles while he waits for his drink.

John definitely looks out of place what with his loose red tie, rumpled brown trenchcoat and the old leather doctor's bag he has in his hand. He sets that last on the bar then, crunches on pretzels while studying his tired face in the mirror behind the bar, he looked as rumpled as always, blonde hair in dissaray, a day or two of stubble on his cheeks. He frowned at the image before digging into the pocket of his coat.

He asks, "What's the policy on smoking here?" he asks.

The bartender taps the no smoking sign as he got John his drinks.

"Bollox," the warlock groused. "Thought this was the land of the bloody free." He tucked his pack of smokes away, but he pulled his lighter out, spinning it idly on the bar.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate is at the bar. No reason for a table or a booth when you're by yourself. Not unless you're enjoying your own company - which she wasn't. And it was infinitely easier to buy your drinks back to back when the bartender was at your beck and call. Not that $25 was going to get her a lot of back to back, but it was what she had in her pocket, and it would have to do.

She's been walking the neighbourhood, considering doing the whole vigilante thing later this evening, especially since, after this morning's food truck run there was another regular missing. Young kid (she says that like she's not some young kid herself), maybe 19 - been out on his own since 15, and unlike most, hadn't dipped into either the sex or the drug trade. Which made his disappearance hopeful? Well, Kate was trying to be hopeful.

She's in jeans, a tee, and her winter coat is tossed on the seat beside her, making it mostly clear she's not here for company - alas, she's only got one coat.

John's arrival is met with a quizical uplift of brow, and then a return to her hunched over, mopey posture over her beer. And since the bartender is racking them up anyway, she taps the bar and requests another.

"You know those things are bad for you," Kate mutters about the cigarettes. Which probably was a mistake. You know, engaging the enemy (so to speak) when you're trying to send stay away signals.

Constantine has posed:
John looks up from spinning his lighter at the words of warning, "Nah, I only smoke vegan ciggy's luv, gonna live forever," he replies before carrying on. "At least that's what the bloke in the skinny jeans told me when he sold them to me."

John's pack of Silk Cut were many things, obscure, terribly pretentious (esepcially with what he had to do to find a pack on this side of the pond) but they were far from vegan. John's faint smirk said that much as he sized up Kate. It wasn't so much a leer as sizing up a verbal sparring partner.

"Think he might have been having me on?" he asks as his drink arrives and he slams down the shot.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate laughs in spite of herself. "You know what they make vegan ciggies out of, right?" There's a heartbeat of a pause, one of almost perfect timing. "Grass."

As for his actual cigarettes, Kate had seen the like before. And better. Seriously, there were those in her parent's crowd who felt their long-filter, slimline, 6 to a $20 pack cigarettes were as much a fashion statement as the Gucci handbags they draggged about and tossed casually onto the floor, or the Melvior suits they stacked in their closets. It was like makeup taken to a whole new level. None of it was an actual fact about any of them, and Kate had no doubt most, if not all, of them smoked the cheaper things on the sly when they were at home and nobody was looking.

Then again, Kate was having a bad couple of days and was, excuseably, grumpy.

"Having you on? You mean like seeing if you buy the sign or not? There's really only one way to find out, but I'd finish my dri-"

John slams his drink back, making her comment moot. "Well, at least he won't put it out in your empty glass. Might kick you out, though. I'd be game to see what happens if you try."

Of course she would. It wouldn't affect her one little bit, other than possibly being amusing.

Constantine has posed:
"Well that might be okay depending on the grass they use," John says with a smile.

John's smile remains when he's prodded about lighting up anyhow. "Meant the guy who sold me the things," he corrects her, with a faint chuckle, but as he's never met a dare he didn't like he asks, "You know if it's true the guy that runs this place is bullet proof?" though the question was largely moot because even as he asked it he knocked a cigarette out of his pack and lit it up, without the use of the lighter that still sat on the bar. Just a slight spark of flame from his finger tip and the cigarette was lit.

"Still got my pint, so, one sec," he says holding up a finger as he grabbed his pint off the bar and swallowed it down around the cigarette. Clearly, this wasn't his first debauchery rodeo.

When the pint's done, he set the mug down next to the shot.

"So, in case some big bullet proof bloke comes from out back and flattens me, name's John, with an 'h' just make sure the spell it right on my tombstone."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Why am I not surprised you got the joke," Kate murmurs with a wry grin flitting over her lips. Her first beer is downed in right order even as the second arrives, letting her hand the empty over to the bartender.
When John lights his smoke wit a fingertip she shakes her head. "Why am I not surprised?" Her voice is a low mutter. "Dead people prancing about stabbing my friends, and Chuckles over there is trying to get himself thrown out of a bar he thinks is owned by a bulletproof guy."

Okay, she'd heard of Luke, but hadn't put him and the bar together until *just this second*. Yeah, John could be in trouble.

When he spells his name - well, tells her about the 'h', she laughs, "Of course there's an aitch. You're not nearly fancy enough for the preppy version, but I'm sorry, you're out of luck if you're looking for someone to see you get a tombstone." Just for laughs, though, she grabs a napkin, and writes on it, /John with an 'h'/ and leans over, sticking it in a poket of his trenchcoat.

"There. You're set up good now. You can die assured that your name will be spelled correctly."

To which she salutes him with her beer. Amused.

Constantine has posed:
"Seem like the type do I?" John asked sounding amused. Weed barely felt like a drug to John, but then when you've tripped balls on things that weren't of this Earth it sort of gave you a skewed pharmacological perspective.

The low mutter is mostly missed except for bit about dead people prancing about... "Eh now, what do you know about the dead walking about?" he asks. That was the business that'd brought him down here, a revenant, some hard-headed bastard who wasn't going to stay dead until he'd avenged himself on the wife who made him that way. He didn't save the wife, but their kid, he lived, even if he saw the whole thing... Not that it stopped John from taking the money for the job after seeing the kid to their uncle's. Man had to drink right? Though the last thing he wanted was another blood revenant to deal with tonight. "Best be joking, I'm past business hours."

"An' give me another mate," he says to the bartender, who didn't seem bullet proof, but then he doubted the poor sod was the owner.

The bartender looked at John's cigarette and for a moment there was a bit of a standoff, the bartender staring at the smoke, John starring at the bartender. In the end though, John took a long, savoured drag of his cigarette and tossed it into his pint glass. "Warm in here," he says by way of excuse. "Hate to be throw out in the cold." He shoots a glance to Kate. "Company could be better though," he teases.

And that was before she put his name on a napkin and stuck it in his pocket.

"You're all heart," he says as the bartender brings him another beer. "An' what should I tell them to put on yours in case you drown in one of those pints you're throwing back?"

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
There's an amused quirk of brow from Kate when John declares her company to be substandard. "So that's how it is, huh? I'll remind you, I was here first." Though she'sstill talking to him, so really a lot of this is her own fault right now. "As for my tombstone..." There's another of those saucy grins. "The better Hawkeye."

Kate shrugs.

"You can call me Kate, though."

She eyeballs him steadily as his cigarette is tosseed into the pint glass, and further as he asks about her undead comment. "Past business hours, huh? What you some kind of zombie hunter? Trust me, you don't want to mess around with this one."

Noooot that Kate was actually convinced it was Elektra. Or if it /was/ Elektra, that Elektra had ever been dead. That was the simpler explanation, right? That this was someone pretending to be her... Natch that. Matt wouldn't be fooled. Or would he? Man was crazy about her. Like the kind of crazy he could have toppled over the edge of that cliff and gone all padded walls and perma-hug couture. Simpler still, though was Elektra had never been dead. She'd been pretending all along for some twisted messed up reason - likely to do with that whole Hand thing she'd gotten herself messed up in.

Constantine has posed:
"Right, and now I know why there wasn't any one else at the bar," John says still going on the substandard company track. Though, as she noted, it wasn't like he'd stopped talking ot her either. He looks to the bartender for support, "Right?"

The man spreads his hands in the international sign of 'this is between y'all'. John snorted at the man, "Coward," he mutters.

"Kate, eh? Good to meet you," he extends a hand. "And the better Hawkeye? What do you got to do with the dishy bloke in the purple tights," he asks, before amending. "Unless you mean the one in that show about the army hospital, in which case, you drink enough that I'd buy it."

At the question about him being a zombie hunter, he shakes his head. "Not exactly," he says and a card appears in his hand which he slides over to Kate it reads:

John Constantine
Exorcist, Demonologist, and Master of the Dark Arts
201-555-7182

"An' if there's really a zombie," John says before sighing and adding: "Better tell me about it."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
John's hand is regarded suspiciously - mostly because of his dissing on her company. Though to be fair she'd come here to be alone, so why was she worried he was teasing her about being a substandard companion (though she knew the answer to that: secretly, Kate wondered if it were true, and if that were why she had such lousy luck with men). Still, she shakes his hand, firmly, the way she was taught, and without apology.

"Trust me, I'm the better Hawkeye. Cuter in purple tights, too, unless you like dishy blonde guys, which is sounds like you do." Me too, she thought. "Which is fine by me, but I have to say, he's taken."

His hand is released, and he's given a scowl. "I hardly drink as much as he does." Yes, she'd heard all the Alan Alda Hawkeye jokes. By virtue of her alter ego name, she'd even seen the show, because there were only so many times you could hear the references without being curious.

His card, she looks at without touching. "Wow. I do know how to pick them. Exorcist. Demonologist. And Master of the Dark Arts." Her gaze is lifted up to him, nearly bored. "Are you sure you shouldn't be drinking at some goth club? You could do good for yourself there, picking up the believers. They'd eat this up like candy."

His sober reply about zombies, though, has her pausing, mulling things over. Biting her lower lip. "I don't know if she's a zombie. Big hoopla that she was dead, and now there are rumours she's back. It would really suck if she really were dead." He's given a wry grin. "You don't even want to know."

Constantine has posed:
John's handshake is firm and quick, his hand are lightly calloused from some sort of physical labour.

"I'm what you might call an equal opportunity apprciator of folks in tights," John says easily enough. "As to who's cuter, only see the other one in tights but if you've got some handy I'd be more than happy to provide my expert opinion," he offers with a grin as he takes a sip of his beer.

As to the remarks about Alan Alda, and the drinking, "Well, night's young, innit?" he asks. He certainly planned to tie one on. Speaking of... he finishes his pint and calls for another after all they were talking goths and zombies both topics, in John's mind, called for booze and lots of it.

"More a petty dabbler than a master, really," he offers off-hand. "An' Goths aren't much more than a bunch of posers," he says, clearly not rattled by the disbelief about his claims. "Tend not to consort with that lot unless I have to." He shudders slightly.

Then it was down to business. "Try me," he says of not wanting to know. "Like the card said, this is my sort of business, an' so, let me know what you're dealing with and I'll give you my best advice," he says before adding: "Like as not, it'll be run for your life, but, sometimes it's something else."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"And you're not a poser," Kate asks, amuseed. "That outfit. Those cigarettes. And that card. You shriek poser. Like I'd say you were trying to hard, but you actually sound like you believe yourself."

And then he's telling her 'try me' which only solidifies her opinion.

"Exactly my point," Kate laughs, grabbing up her own beer. "And nice try with the tights thing. You've got a good imagination, so use it. It's not only not the weather, but I don't do peep shows. Especially not for strangers. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to pick me up, which I have to say is a lost cause, buddy. I am like the kiss of death to relationships."

Because he keeps up with the charade, she plays along. "Friend of mine, his girlfriend was supposed to have died overseas. Only everyone is saying they've seen her about town recently." Kate really doesn't know what to think. Okay, she thinks she knows what to think - it's Elektra, alright, but she has to be alive, right? Only Matt thinks she's dead. Which is the part she doesn't get - Matt, the guy who can tell who you are by your heartbeat, thinks she's dead. Or undead. Or something. "She was involved in some pretty shady business before her death" Kate airquotes that one "but my friend swears she died in his arms. She's.. something of.. well, how are you with ancient prophecies and the like?"

Constantine has posed:
John laughs but her comments really did sting. /What the bloody hell's wrong with my trenchcoat?/ he wondered. "Shriek's a strong word," he mutters as he takes up his next beer and takes a swig.

"Thought never crossed my mind," John said of picking her up, lying like a rug as he does so. "Though to be fair you're the one who brought up the tights, I was just trying to be a fair judge is all," he smirks into his beer as he takes a further gulp. "An' you think you're the kiss of death to relationships?" he asks before shaking his head. "Not bloody likely."

Well maybe she was, what did he know, but in John's case it tended to be much more literal.

Though when it comes to the zombie stuff, John sets down the flirting to actually listen, fixing Kate with a serious look. At first he's relieved, from what she said, it sounds like their 'zombie' just faked her death to dodge some shady deal. Wasn't like John had done the same a time or two. Though, when she brings up ancient prohecies, he has second thoughts. "What sort of prophecies?" he asks with a grim expression. "Every detail helps."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Hey, you're the one said I was lousy company," Kate points out. "You started this. And shriek is a nice word. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror?"

There's a laugh that burbles forth from her.

"Don't worry. I'm not trying to pick you up either." Only in her case it wasn't a lie. "I just got out of a bad fake relationship - and heh, here's the kicker. The dead woman? She's who I got dumped for. Like seriously, you have to be really bad at this to be dumped for a dead woman."

If Elektra was dead. /If/.

"You're serious, aren't you, about knowing." There's a shrug from the young woman, who sips her beer, then sets it down, wrapping her hands about the mug. "From what I've pieced together, there are these twin prophecies, both who believe this perfect killer will help them win this ancient war. Only our girl was going to stop all of this nonsense by dying. Let herself get killed and the whole deal, just so nobody could have her. Then now there's all these rumours that not only is she back, but she's on their side. They're calling her Black Sky, or Perfect Death, or something like that." Exactly that, Kate tells herself as she tries to make light of it, because really, who believed these things anyway, and she wanted a way to discount the story and pretend she didn't believe a whit of it once John started laughing and telling her he was just kidding after all. "That sort of Prophecy. The Chaste versus the Hand."

Constantine has posed:
John snorts. "Touche," he says. "An' I look fine."

Though he chortles as well.

"Why'd I worry about that? Sounds like I'm not the only one who needs to look in a mirror," he says of her trying to pick him up. Though the story about the fake relationship, that's too interesting to ignore. "Hold on, fake how, like you were just shagging the bloke but your heart wasn't in it, or were you actually just pretending to be dating before your bloke," he considers before amending, "Or bird, dumped you for this dead not-quite-dead woman? Not the weirdest thing I've heard, but yeah, that's pretty bad. Whatcha do to 'em or were they always just hot and bothered for this dead woman?"

John couldn't help himself, as serious as he was listening these names... "Well can't be that Chaste if the're always playing with their Hand," he remarks dryly before he gets down to business. "Anyhow, sounds like your standard cult stuff, some chosen one to help them wipe out their enemies. Haven't heard of this Chaste, but I've heard about the Hand, and not just in the newspaper, their ancient and bad news, your standard death cult, with a side of ninjutsu. Seem to remember something about them living forever too," he adds. "Anyhow, if they're involved, I was right at the beginning, run for it, you'll thank me for it when you die of old age."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"I look in the mirror all the time," Kate protests with a huffy laugh. "I look mighty fine, thank you very much. I just don't have a lot of luck with men. And we weren't shagging. It's a really long story that mostly comes down to I needed a boyfriend to keep my father off my back, and he needed a girlfriend to keep the money hungry hoards off of his. It was win win."

Until it wasn't. Not that she was fooling herself that they felt anything for one another, but still, to be dumped for a dead woman?

Kate groans as John takes one for the team and makes the joke. "So. Bad. See, now I know why you're sitting here alone with me on a Saturday night instead of out with someone with looser morals and a lower alcohol tolerance." She salutes him with her beer, and takes a sip as if to punctuate the point that she's not a lightweight.

"Death cult? Really." Kate whistles under her breath. "I guess that fits with what I know of her, but honestly, I don't know. How do you bring someone back from the dead anyway?" She winces when he mentions ninjutsu. Because that was /soooo/ up Elektra's ally, if only he knew. "And I can't run for it. We're trying to beat them at this war of theirs. Turns out they didn't get the memo it was over, and they've brought friends along."

A nod.

"Yeah. She was their Chosen one. The Chaste's too. To hear tell, she was raised to be this killer. Which if you knew my friend would make you laugh that he hooked up with her. Except he was trained by the same old blind man." A squint from Kate. "What is it with these old prophecies that there's always some weird old guy imparting wisdom to these lost kids. I mean, it's like Star Wars all over again."

Then again, Star Wars likely lifted the plot from the Chaste and the Hand. Wut? It could have happened.

Constantine has posed:
John laughs, "I don't think it was his back those money hungry hordes were trying to get on," he observes with an amused grin. "So, let me get this straight, you and this bloke, made a deal so you're dad would get off your back about dating someone, and then he dumped you... from the fake relationship for this dead bird?" he asks. "Well, good to know people besides me are having interesting lives but still not the worst thing I've heard."

He laughs, "The joke was there, couldn't help myself. An' eh, maybe I have standards?" he suggests in a tone that says he probably doesn't. "Besides, I am finding smart-asses that allegedly look good in tights and can hold their liquor are much more fun company than that other sort."

He salutes her with his beer.

"That's what I heard anyhow, a ninja death cult, which besides sounding like a band name, is bloody bad news. Not that I really keep up with this sort," he was no fighter, so he tended to give the chop-socky side of the mystic community a wide berth. "Ah, well there's your mistake then, never get involved in these ancient wars, never turn out well, jus' a good way to end up a pawn in some wanker's war. Trust me, luv, run. You'll be happier for it."

John certainly agrees with that theory, "Lucas likely lifted the whole thing from 'em," he reasons. "An' see this what I mean, these old cults they like to get em young, fill their heads with all their bollox and then send them off to die. Pretty sad stuff, but then, that's the way of the world. All you can do is make sure when the chips fall, you're not one of the ones with a sword in their gut."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"He's cute," Kate says thoughtfully, head tilting as she considers it. "But he's not really a traditional catch, you know? Blind. Lawyer who specializes in pro bono work. Catholic with a C so big it should have its own zip code. Then all this money falls into his lap. He was going to be eaten alive." Kate rolls her eyes. "Trust me. I know the vultures. They were after the money."

Her features temper to a smile as, finally, he declares she might be okay company. "I was beginning to wonder. But that's me. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Professional best friend. Shoulders so wide you could park a transport truck on them while you cry into your beer." A shrug. "Just really lousy at love."

His words of wisdom about ancient wars, though... "Easier said than done. Believe me, I totally hear what you're saying, but they're my friends. And he's so stupid he'd take them on himself, and that was before she was back in the picture. Now he's got this idea in his head that she can be saved." There's a grin. "Besides, I'm an archer. None of that hand to hand business for me."

Except for when hand-to-hand was what was left. She wasn't a slouch with her fists if push came to shove, but marksman was still her best feature, and her first love.

Constantine has posed:
John takes in the description, "You lost me at Catholic," he says with a faint grin. "Never again with that sort." He says of his own dating woes. "Sounds like a good bloke though, 'cept for dumping you for a dead girl."

"Love's a bugger, my advice is go for sex, it's more fun and less trouble in the long run," he suggests. "The rest is just too messy, besides, love is the sort of bastard to sneak up on you when you're just trying to have fun anyhow, so that business tends to sort itself out whether you want it to or not."

John was the last person to be giving love advice, but he couldn't say he wasn't at least sympathetic to Kate's plight. "Also, love might come around more if you're not fake dating blokes in love with dead girls."

When it comes to the war John nods, "Must be bloody good friends to risk all that," John observes, but then all that loyalty and running into danger came with the tights in his experience. He takes another long pull of his beer before he speaks again, "So, no chance of running then?" he asks her.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"He's a good bloke. Think the whole pro bono thing got me. And it's okay, we have like zero chemistry. It really was just for convenience. Sure, it stings a bit to know she's why the whole deal was called to a premature halt, but honestly, how many of us can say we can compete with a dead woman?" Grinning as she makes the joke, actually feeling a lot less sorry for herself. "She was pretty impressive before she died, too. I can't really fault him. I mean, other than the she's dead bit."

Kate leans over her beer, reaching idly for a pretzel. "I'm not even sure I'm looking for love, you know? Sex is okay, but kinda boring if there's nothing behind it. Maybe I'm broken. I fell for a guy who didn't notice I existed. Get dumped for a dead woman. I had to bribe my dog to come live with me. Seriously, John with an 'h', you probably want to stay far away from me. I'm like the death knell. I'm where relationships go to die. Or, if things work out for him, maybe I'm where they go to find true love. I mean Clint seems happy. Matt thinks Elektra will remember she loves him and somehow magically break from the whole Perfect Death thing."

Lost in thought as she speaks, his question of running filters through. "Huh, me? Run? From who - you, or them? You, oh yeah. You have bad news written all over you. Them.. I don't know. Don't people do things like this for their friends. Tell them how stupid their ideas are and how they're going to get their butts handed to them on a platter and ask what time we're meeting on the corner to go rumble with the enemy anyway?"

Yeah, Kate's got a huge neon 'Do Gooder' sign flashing above her head.

Constantine has posed:
"Got you how?" John asks about the pro bono thing. There's a laugh for the rest though. "Can't say anyone's left me for the dead yet," he admits. "Now undead..." he says letting it trail off with a laugh. It was a joke, but with all he'd said so far though it'd be easy to believe he might believe he's telling the truth.

John shakes his head. "If you're not looking for love or sex, what are you looking for then? Far as I'm concerned that's the whole spectrum unless you're counting friendship," though he can't quite keep from smirking about sex being boring. "Sex, boring? Only if you're doing it wrong," he remarks even knowing full well what Kate meant, it was a shot too tempting not to take. "Sounds like you need some better lovers in your life." Though John stops short of volunteering himself.

There's a snort for Kate being the relationship graveyard and her warning him off. "Trust me, luv, you've got nothing on me. Sure yours found true love without even noticing you, but mine, mine tend to end up much, much worse."

Then there's that name. Elektra. Hardly common. Was it possible... "Elektra Natchios?" John asks. "Greek woman, rich as hell, lovely accent?" he asks. "That's your dead girl?" he didn't even know she was dead. But then John wasn't exactly Mr. Current Events on the non-spooky side of life.

"Probably good to run from both," he says including himself in that count. "Though I meant the Hand," he frowns, the 'Do Gooder' sign clearly visible at this point, in John's experience, it wasn't a sign of a long a happy life.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Ya, got me. You know. Hey, it's me, Kate, how can I be the stupid friend who follows you into life threatening situations?" She laughs at herself. "To be fair I was stupid before I met him. But it's kinda my schtick. I don't know, I can make things better in life, so it just seems kind of wrong not to try, right?"

More beer disappears.

"I have it all, really. All the things a person needs to have a happy life. I could even have the guy if I wanted. I mean, there's a whole country club full of them waiting to fall on that sword. I just don't want any of them. Maybe I don't really know what I want yet." He's given a long serious look. "I want someone who cares about the world the way I do. Maybe not so stupidly as I do, but something? You know how people say they couldn't see themselves with someone stupid? Or superficial. It's like that, I guess. So far all I've been finding, though, are friends. It's not so bad. Just a little lonely every now and then."

And a bit of a kick in the teeth from time to time when she thinks about things like how Clint never saw her.

her drink is midway to her mouth when he asks about Elektra. "Hrm? Did I say that?" Only she had, and they both knew it, and short of lying - which she could do, but what was the point - she nods. "That's her. Turns out Beautiful, rich, and gorgeous is also one heck of a kick ass ninja, and he's head over heels in love with her. I think half of us are standing with him just to keep him from walking over to their side and offering himself up."

His own comments about being left for the undead gets a laugh. "Technically, I think she's undead if she's up and about and stabbing people. But I wouldn't quote me on that." She smiles at him. "Thanks for not offering. I mean, I'm sure you're great in bed and all, and probably as enthusiastic as you are adventurous, but I'm not sure throwing myself into bed with strangers is going to help me any."

Constantine has posed:
John nods at Kate's explanation. "I get what you mean in theory anyhow," John says of trying to help as if he hadn't had a history of taking on hopeless causes and hard luck cases himself.

John takes that serious look in stride, and does seem to actually be listening, "Gotcha, you're looking for a heart to bleed along with yours, but perhaps not quite as messily," he says. "Tall order, from what I've seen tonight, your heart bleeds quite a bit," he says though it's not an insult despite his glib choice of words, there's even a nod of respect. "Though, probably worth it when you find the right bloke from what I've heard. Soul mates and all that."

There is a low amused chuckle from John when she confirms it. "Small bloody world," he murmurs. "I've met her you know? Actually more than that, I blew her off one time to take someone out on a date she paid for. True story," he says lifting his glass a moment before adding, "Hope she's not still sore about that."

He doubted she was, but given his luck, he'd take a few precautions just in case.

"Definitely hope she doesn't hold a grudge," he adds lightly about her stabbing people. "Welcome, and for the record, you're absolutely correct," he grins shamelessly of her assessment about how he might be in bed. "Figured you didn't need me throwing myself at you, got troubles enough on your own," he says. "Ninjas and all of that. Though if you're dead set on not running, might be able to do something to help make sure you don't end up dead."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
The remainder of Kate's beer is downed and she declines to order another. "Gee thanks. I'll try not to bleed on your shoes." But she got what he was saying. "I'm not sure I believe in soulmates either, but there has to be someone out there better than the kind of guy my father would have me end up with."

His story of blowing Elektra off gets a chuckle. "I never met her. We really didn't run in the same social circles." Though she had moved to New York which had meant the possibility of a future meeting existed until all this happened. "Matt says she wasn't really the sort to be jealous. I'm not sure about grudges, but I'm thinking she's probably busy enough being the answer to this grand prophecy that you're safe for the time being."

Kate reaches for her coat, a preamble to her taking her leave. "You have something that could help? Go on. I'm all ears."

Constantine has posed:
"Thanks, I just had 'em polished," John says of his shoes before nodding. "Not looking for love, sex or soulmates, it could be we've stumbled on your problem,"he observes glibly. "Only thing left seems to be friends."

Though that observation is left behind with a nod, "Didn't seem like the jealous sort, anyhow, we'll see what comes of it, likely nothing. Though if you ever go to that Georgian Creeds place, be sure to tell them John says hi, by the way," he smirks at that. "Actually they're more likely to come get me than she is."

As for the latter, he ducks down and opens his doctor's bag, rumaging until he comes up with a silver amulet on chain of the same material. Laying it on the bar he slides it to Kate, the oblong amulet glinting in the light, except for where strange glyphs in black have been etched into its surface. "One off, protection amulet, a drop of your blood in the centre there, it'll save you from a single deadly blow. The spell should last until the new moon, longer than that and you'll need to ring me for a recharge. Consider it my contribution to the cause... or your jewlery collection, if you don't buy the whole magic business."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate laughs, "What did you do to make the Diamonte's angry?" It would seem Kate knows of the place. Which should be very telling to John. "And how did you get invited.. nevermind. Elektra."

Kate just shakes her head and shrugs her coat on.

She stares at the amulet for a few moments, then takes it with mumbled thanks, even if she thinks someone more likely to be on the front lines should push come to shove, but it's pretty enough, and even if she isn't sure she believes in magic (undead Elektra notwithstanding), it would make a quaint addition to her jewelry collection - and a memory of tonight to boot.

"Thanks. And uh.. yeah, try not to get into too much trouble, huh?" In an act of generosity in kind, she tosses her crumpled bills on the bar, to pay her tab, and instructs, "The next few are on me. Thanks, John. I enjoyed tonight."

And with that, Kate takes her leave.