6316/Would the Real Kate Bishop Please Stand Up

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Would the Real Kate Bishop Please Stand Up
Date of Scene: 30 January 2019
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Kate's plans to show the world she can too be something other than a goody-two-shoes fails. Sort of. And John shows himself to be an unexpected gentleman. Kind of.
Cast of Characters: Hawkeye (Bishop), Constantine




Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Jessica Jones' words had stung. Sure, JJ was right, Kate was being utterly ridiculous (and she knew it) but the other woman hadn't needed to be so harsh. At least that's how Kate felt about the matter.

Truth be known, any number of things JJ had been telling her lately had been filtering through, leaving the woman wondering if maybe she'd been going about things all wrong. Maybe the problem was she was just too.. too. Maybe she should curse and swear and drink and go about town with a swagger and an attitude that she she had no fucks to give and the world could kiss her shiny whitebread (and rich) ass.

Normal Kate would have winced at such thoughts. Normal Kate would have been appalled at them (if she wasn't laughing at how stupid they were). Normal Kate would have shrugged this all off in a matter of seconds and carried on carrying on.

Except for some stubborn and inexplicable reason, Normal Kate had vacated the building and left behind Stubborn Kate - who had Things to Prove.

That being said, Kate ruined her one month streak of not needing an advance on her trustfund and had asked her father to sign off. She'd even gone so far as to say she needed clothes appropriate to go clubbing - a thing that had so pleased her father, he'd actually footed the bill himself, leaving Kate at a debatable one month streak she wasn't sure she should count.

Normal Kate said she shouldn't; Stubborn Kate asked why the fuck not?

Stubborn Kate had been in charge on the shopping spree, which was why Kate was at Club Lux dressed in a little black number, with stiletto heels, and seamed stockings that went from here up to her gartered thighs, of wich there was an ample view given the dress' length. Jewelry she already owned - and several choice pieces were brought to bear: simple diamond pieces opted for over Goth ostentatiousness to add to the no fucks given attitude. A manicure, a pedicure, freshly trimmed hair, and professionally done makeup, and Stubborn Kate was out on the town intent on making a splash.

Club Lux wouldn't know what hit it.

Constantine has posed:
Constantine hadn't bothered dressing up for Club Lux, he and the owner had an arragement, one that let John skip the dress code so long as he paid his bar tab and didn't try to banish some of the club's more exotic customers. It was a fair deal, but one that clearly didn't sit well with the bartender, who stared daggers at John while she poured him his scotch.

"Must be torture to jus' let me sit 'ere?" he asked as he took the drink from her hand.

The woman smiled, still staring daggers. "Enjoy your drink." Then turned and went to deal with other customers. Unlike the rest of the sods at the bar he doesn't watch her go, there was a downside to being able to see past the illusions of the fallen.

Deciding discretion is the better part of valour, John picks up his drink then wanders off in search of a booth while watching the floor show with three girls named Britney dancing on tables.

"Say what you will about ol' Lucy, he can throw a party," John remarks to himself taking a sip of his drink.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate made an entrance. Her coat was taken at the door, and say what you will about the young woman and her probably disdain for the elite set despite being one of them, girl knew how to work a room. Just like you'd expect for someone of her ilk to.

Pausing in the doorway, she threw a bored look out over the crowd, and stood there until at least several heads turned. And given the length of her dress, and the rest of her getup (and quite possibly the fact that this was /not/ a place Kate Bishop was known to frequent, and it was very visibly Kate Bishop - or a really good clone of her - standing there in the doorway.. heads did turn.

When sufficient heads turn, she walks into the room like she owns it, putting more than one runway walk to shame (not to mention, there are 'queens' who'd kill to have a walk like that, or a fifteen minute sitdown with the girl for tips, because oh mama), and pauses at the bar.

"Champagne, please." Her father's platinum card pressed down upon the bar, sans numbers or name, like all elite cards, "And don't bore me with the lower tiers. I'd hate to have to express my displeasure with the owner." Which read more like: have Daddy write a bad review. If Lucifer didn't care about verbal complaints, hitting him where his publicity lived might just do the trick.

Her gaze scans the crowd and lights upon one John Constantine sitting at a booth, and while he certainly would be slumming it, he would also be a choice that wagged tongues faster than you could say tax break. Which was really kind of the point.

"I'll be over there. Do be a dear and keep them coming, won't you?"

Katie sauntering off, her card left behind as she makes her way to John's booth and invites herself down.

Constantine has posed:
John's head had been one of the heads that had turned at Kate's entrance. He'd had to take a double take when she walked in, she looked worlds different than the girl he'd met at Luke's Bar in Harlem.

He kept an eye on her as she made her way across the room, and his golden brows raised when she made her way over to his booth even as he was just settling down into it.

He raises his glass to her as she drops into his booth. "Well someone's dressing up tonight," John remarks with a faint smirk. "Glad I wore my good tie," it was the same one from the other night. "Might have felt self-concious."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Dressing up?" Kate drawls. "Oh, sweetie, you actually believe that, don't you? Hardly." His tie is regarded, Kate lifting her hand and making a so-so gesture. "I hope you didn't toss the homeless man you got it off of any cash for the thing. If so, he got the better end of the deal. Though I have to ask, how is it that John Constantine, master of the dark arts and all the bullshit is here at a club like this?"

Her drive arrives, and she makes a negligent waves of hand meant to be both thanks and dismissal all at once. Picking it up and sipping, she wonders, "I wouldn't think you'd like a place like this. You seemed a back alley booze joint kind of guy if I read you right. I'm surprised you haven't broken out in pox at having to sit this close to the rest of us for longer than five minutes straight."

In which saying, she both slams her own kind a la old Kate, while acknowleging there's a certain amount of that hypocrisy in all of those gathered at the Club and clubs like this. The point was to be seen over any actual enjoyment of the venue.

Constantine has posed:
John's brows raise at the 'oh sweetie' remark. and the words that follow it. So very different from the woman he'd met at Luke's. Though that doesn't stop him from appreciating the wardrobe and what it looks like on Kate. "Nah," he says wryly, "Guy gave it away, said it was too tacky, they weren't letting him sleep under the good bridges with it on."

John takes a drink then and settles back.

"As for the Club, know the owner, he's another poser like me, thinks he's the devil, we lot like to hang out in the same spots, even if the spot's a bit to classy and pricy for the likes of me."

There's another raise of golden brows at the slamming back the champagne, "So, what's your story? Didn't think this was your sort of joint either?"

He tosses back his whiskey, and finding Kate's waitress, signals for another round in case they thought Kate was going to sip that champagne.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Any joint that takes my card is my kind of joint," Kate says acidly, lifting a hand to summon a waiter to pour another glass of champagne. The action was smooth and practiced. Whatever John thought he'd met before, the girl presented in this world like she thought she owned it, and it owed her thanks for the matter.

"It figures you know the owner. As for myself, it was getting mundane. There's only so many days you can wake up in a walk up before you say to yourself I'm better than this and throw it away like yesterday's news."

Yes, she just cracked a publishing joke right there, totally at the expense of her bank balance.

The waiter (or waitress, whichever arrives first) is told "Oh, just bring the man the bottle. Toss it on my tab. This is going to be tedious having you all bob back and forth all evening even if it is entertaining. He can pour my drinks" She looks to John to confirm this. "and save us all the effort of the pleasantries."

Message delivered, Kate looks back to John as though the poor waitperson ceases to exist.

"Now, what were we saying? Oh yes. The tie. Really, I'd think someone like you would have looped it, undone, around your neck and and unbuttoned the first few buttons to make a point. It's not like you're unattractive. You'd have had a few bites." She considers him. "I might bite."

Constantine has posed:
"That's a pretty wide selection then," John says of Kate's joints. "What is it? Platinum or Black? Either way, I bet you'd find few enough places willing to turn that away."

He nods at the bit about the walk up, but doesn't believe a word, not by the look on his face anyhow, there is a sort of 'uh-huh' quality to his expression. "So what you settle on instead?" he asks. "Room in daddy's penthouse? Or did you get yourself a brownstone on the Upper East Side?" he asks. Not that he knew where Derek Bishop lay his head. He hadn't bothered to check.

"Works for me," he says of the bottle. "More of this," he says waving his glass. "Girl behind the bar knows what she gave me."

As to the remarks about the tie and his shirt, he looks down at his tie. "And here I thought I was being classy," he remarks running his fingers over the battered fabric. "And hmm, you didn't seem like the biting sort the other night, something about it being boring."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Wouldn't you like to know," Kate smiles coolly over the question of card colour. Of course it was platinum: her father might be pleased she'd come to her senses, but he wasn't handing over the big card. Even if there was virtually little difference to the amount of damage she could do being let loose with either. "Just be happy your tab is mine tonight and if you're entertaining enough, we'll call it even."

Implying that if he wasn't, he'd owe her a favour.

She waits until the girl is gone before shrugging, and sipping her champagne, "Time and place, John. Time. And. Place. And really, a bite. A nibble. Whips and chains and some restraints. Really isn't it all boring in the end? The fun bit is getting there, don't you agree?"

Peering at him over her glass.

Constantine has posed:
John shakes his head, "Suit yourself," he says about the card. He really didn't care of course. Money was easy to come by in his business. "An' while I appreciate the drinks, I'm not some monkey to dance for his supper. Though, I'm always game to make a trade."

Though for all his protestations, Kate draws some fairly evocative images. "Not the destination it's the journey, eh?" he asks her as he lifts his own glass. "Don't suppose you've got a map do you?" he asks her. "'sides the thing with the shirt of course."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Having you dance like a monkey would be a waste, don't you think? I've never pictured myself the type to waste a raw material." Kate shrugs, and downs the remainder of her champagne, and holds the glass out for John to refill. "Mind the bubbles."

"It's always the journey," she agrees after he's poured. "We all know what the ending will be. What changes is how you get there." Which was really something Kate appreciated about books - a thought she immediately tamped down and shut away fiercely as not belonging to this evening whatsoever. Tonight was for being anything but that stuffy smarmy pasty faced Kate that Jessica thought her to be, and to break the socialite mold her father wanted her to live in. Tonight was for living, and John was a perfect victim. It wouldn't be hard to convince him, she was sure, to fall in with her plans to shed that old skin of hers.

Constantine has posed:
"Well, we see eye to eye there at least. Would look ridiculous in a little fez," John remarks of dancing like a monkey, when she asks him to fill her drink, he gives a shrug and lifts the botle pouring the flute expertly, if negligently before putting down the bottle and sliding the glass in Kate's direction.

John finishes his second glass of whiskey and slides the bottle towards Kate to pour his glass. "So, what's this ending then?" he asks her cheekily. "Would hate to start down the road only to find we've got different destinations in mind," he says loosening his tie, a slight deference to Kate's earlier comments about his appearance.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"You're good at that," Kate notes of the flute pouring. "Not a drop wasted. And I don't know, I think you'd look cute in a fez and nothing else, dancing before... eating." She drops the word ever so casually, and sips from her drink.

As to endings... "Oh, I don't know. Where should this end? You seem a reasonably attractive male with a history that suggests he knows what to do with a willing woman in bed. At least I seem to recall you making an offer the last time we met. The hows and whats of it all are just details." Negligent things that can be worked out later, is the implication as she has another sip of the champagne.

And while she has a fairly high tolerance for the stuff, she also doesn't normally have two glasses and a bit in the period of less than half an hour like she just has, and frankly, the lights in the room are getting just that little bit hazier for her. As are her (former) morals.

Constantine has posed:
"Years of experience," John says of his talent at pouring. "Little harder with the fizz," he says since his usual drinks were of a harder sort, there's a snort though for the image. "Well, there might be something to that," he says of the pictur Kate paints for him.

"Seems that I did," John admits, studying Kate from his side of the booth. "And fair enough as long as we're both on the same road."

John studies Kate another moment as he takes a sip of his drink, for his part he's practically sober, it takes more than a couple of whiskies to put John on his ass. He's barely flushed. Now if he'd washed down a couple of pills that would be another story. He reaches into his coat for the little brass case he kept for such things, the devil on his shoulder urging him to take a couple and let what happened after happen. Though he leaves his pills untaken and his hand comes out of his coat.

"Well, I'm noticing a lack of beds around here," he says to Kate. "So, how about you and me get out of here? Since you're big on journey's I promise the way from here to there is one of a kind."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate meets John's gaze unabashedly as he suggests they find somewhere more comfortable. "I hear there are VIP rooms. And we don't have to move very far for one of those. Drinks included."

As if to punctuate her point, she downs the remainder of her glass and holds it out to John again. "One for the road, just in case we're not staying. I'd hate to waste a good bubbly."

Constantine has posed:
"Not so far for my place either," John assures her. "Besides sex in the VIP rooms' has been done."

John does poor her another drink though, before he slides the bottle too her. "And we're taking the drinks with us of course," he says. "Makes for a more fun night."

He snatches up the bottle of whiskey and takes a swig before standing. "C'mon, trust me, won't want to miss this," he says holding out his hand.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"And sex in your place hasn't?" Kate gives John a look that says she knows that's not true. But she't not caring where they go, to be honest - even if she's not sure she's had enough alcohol to actually follow through with this plan.

Of course he's poured that fourth, and shoved it over, even as he gets up with the bottles, leaving Kate with no choice but to down this one as well (which, she figures is just as well given the dutch courage she's needing, and hopefully by the time they reach his place she won't remember any of this...) and grins at him.

"Oh, your hand, even. Such a gentleman. We are going to have to break you of that habit." Kate takes his hand, making to rise from the table, a thing more easily said than done as the champagne is really starting to hit her now.

Constantine has posed:
Damn he'd walked right into that one. John snorts at the jibe though. "Not nearly often enough," he remarks, somewhat honestly.

John for his part has another swig of whiskey before offering Kate his hand. When she stumbles he jerks forward to grab her and stabilize her. "Less about being a gentleman, luv, more about experience."

Shifting the bottles to his other hand, he wraps an arm around Kate, copping a bit of a feel as he does. "Better?" he asks wryly of his lack of gentlemanly behaviour. Then starts leading her to the back of the club, one of the more shadowy spots, which, on the face of it looked sketchy as hell, but it was needed for what he was about to do.

Turning his thoughs inward he pulled on the little tether between his soul and the House of Mystery, and in the gloom at the back of the club a door appears, old, wooden and heavy, with a big brass knocker on the front.

"Bugger," John says, having to stick a bottle in his pocket of his coat to turn the door knob. It turns and the door clicks open, showing not some dingy back room, but the entry way of some sort of gothic mansion, complete with double stair cases and dusty chandelier hung from a roof that seems to stretch away into infinity.

"Tada," John says dryly fishing the bottle back out of his pocket.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate really has no clue how many people John has invited home, she's just positive he's not a virgin, and why wouldn't he invite them there, other than the hassle of kicking them out afterwards (and as he's invited her over, he either isn't worried about that, or she's a special exception - which she's sure she's not).

She's almost giggling at herself in those heels, and tripping, when he cops that feel, and instinctively, she grabs his hand, twisting the thumb around murmuring, "What it, or I'll rip it off" before remembering she was trying to pick him up, having to quickly release the hand and grin at him. "Ooops? foreplay?" Like everything was perfectly normal.

She hs no clue what he's walking them into a corner, and is trying to point out that the exit is over... actually, Kate has lost the exit in the blur the room as become, and trying to look for it only makes her dizzier.

She totally misses the transition to his House until she's there, looking around, still dizzy, but less so as the dimmess, loud music, and strobed lights are replaced by the regular old trappings of his home.

"Nice trick."

Constantine has posed:
As it turned out kicking women out when he brought them here was a particular pain in the ass. Which is why he didn't bother most times. I mean he lived in the bloody House of Mystery, it was hard to find at the best of times and you can forget about calling one of those Uber whatsits. That said, usually the magical mansion made up for it when it came to wow factor.

All the same he lets out a surprised yelp when she twists his thumb back, and chuckles gamely, when she plays it off as foreplay. "Gonna need a safeword if that's the case."

"Thanks," John says shutting the door behind him, the sounds of the music and club goers vanish, replaced by music playing from a sitting room between the two sets of stairs. "Think you can make it," he says nodding to the sitting room, "Or am I going to need to carry you?" he asks.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Safeword?" Kate asks absently, not following. She mighta have followed better but for the ringing in her ears and the way the hallway listed.

The rest she gets, though. "Oh, if I pretend I can't walk, will you carry me anyway?" As though she's going to have to pretend, because, really, those heels were a bad choice for getting this drunk. Looked killer on, mader walk priceless, but totally not a in your cups mode of transport.

Constantine has posed:
John stares at Kate, having a moment of 'what sort of innocent have you lured here' when she doesn't know what a safeword is. "You know, when the play gets too rough, so you know when to stop. Don't do this sort of thing much do you?"

Which fit with what she'd said the other night about being the place relationships went to die.

Still, since he'd made the bloody offer, he takes a deep breath ducks down and scoops Kate up off the floor and into a basket carry.

Bloody hell, he was out of shape, the effort causes him to sweat under his coat, but he soldiers on, carrying Kate to the sitting room and settling her down on the couch. "There, going to need a drink if we're going on to the bedroom," he says passing Kate her bottle before taking a swig from his.

Though, doubt was tugging at the tattered thing he called a conscience as he drank, lowering the bottle and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, John asks, "Wanna see another bit of magic before we get back on the road, so to speak?"

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Oh, that," Kate lies of a safe word. Sober, she'd know. Drunk? It's this blurry concept. "Hard to say anything when you've got one of those.. those things.." she gestures to her face. "On your mouth. You know?"

Not bad for an on the fly coverup for the matter. She had mentioned something about that earlier, hadn't she? Whips. Chains. Restraints.

There's a giggle and an oof as she's lifted up, Kate waving to things along the hallway as she's carried off. "Everything looks so funny. Upside down. Your house is upside down." No, Kate. You are.

Another giggle as she's put down and handed her bottle, which she swigs out of and wipes at her nose, giving a laugh, "It tickles. And what? Oh? More magic. You mean like a card trick?"

Kate goes to gesture widely her assent, with the bottle holding hand, but nearly falls over sideways, having to settle for forcing herself into a serious look like she's paying attention to him, "Magic tricks. Yes, please. And then the sex."

That's what she came her for, right?

Constantine has posed:
Okay, 'then the sex' was perhaps one of the more adorable things he'd heard in recent memories, and all but answered all the questions his magic tricks were meant to discover, but he carried on anyhow.

He knelt down beside the couch pouring a bit of his drink onto his thumb he sets the bottle aside and takes Kate's arm in his hand, "Ueritas, exi" he murmurs as he with three quick motions of his thumb draws a sigil on the inside of her arm.

The sigil turns red and John looks Kate in the eye, or tries to saying, "What do you really want tonight?"

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate is still giggling, moving her arm out wide, and back again, peering at where John has 'drawn' on it. "I can't even see it. It's like pretend art. Only better. Wait! I know, I bet you need one of those lights for it. The ones that only work in the dark. Like at the clubs."

Black Light she means.

"And I don't know, I'm just tired of being frumpy, silly old Kate. Everyone thinks I'm too goody-goody. I just want to be someone else for a little bit and show them all I'm not so stupid. I do things!"

She blinks at John, like she's not quite heard herself say those things. "That's not a very good magic trick. I still have my clothes on." Then she adds, "And there were no cards."

She's slightly perplexed.

Constantine has posed:
John frowns at the result, it's not quite the silver bullet he'd been expecting.

He could do the spell again, but magic didn't do well with repeats, one time a little truth sigil was harmless enough, a second time so close after the first risked... complications not just for Kate but for him and he was going to be buggered for a game of soldiers if he was going to be stuck telling the truth until he could undo the bloody spell.

"Must have fizzled," he jokes. "You know one out of five wizards..." he says letting the joke trail off with a shake of his head.

Then with a sigh Constantine makes a decision. "One more try then," he says putting his hands together in some sort of glyph then pulls them apart incanting: "Molles somnos, somno iam."

Slumber, sleep now.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate blinks a few times, and finds herself getting lost looking for the bottle that is right there in her hands, and under the influence of John's words (his spell. *ahem*) she contentedly curls her arms about the bottle like one might a teddybear, and lays her head against the headrest of the chair. "Just need to close my eyes a second and I'll be all good for playing," Kate says with a yawn, and promptly falls fast asleep.

John isn't going to be the only one kicking himself in the morning, only likely for very different reasons.

Constantine has posed:
John nods, "Sure thing, luv, just rest," he says before her eyes close and she drifts off.

He lets out a sigh as he sinks down next to the couch, back resting against it. "Well that was bloody something," he says taking a long swig from his whiskey.

Then peering up at Kate wrapped around the bottle of champagne, he climbs back to his knees, and yanks it free, "Need this more 'n you thank you very much," he says before he looks at her all curled up and he sets the bottle down before wiggling out of his coat and laying it over her.

"There," he says to the universe at large. "Bloody happy now?" before he slumps back down picks up the bottles and lets them work their own sleeping spell on him in turn.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
It would seen the universe is satisfied. Kate not only sleeps the night through, she does so without being sick. And he's left in peace with his alcohol.