8595/Dear John

Dear John
Date of Scene:	31 July 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	It's complicated doesn't even begin to explain John and Kate's non-relationship. How can you break up if you weren't even dating?
Cast of Characters:	Hawkeye (Bishop), Constantine

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Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
It must have been hours after Clint left. First there was another beer. Then splitting a slice with Lucky. Another shower - a tepid one this time, and lying on her bed staring at the ceiling going over her conversation with Clint. She'd even found herself scrolling aimlessly on her phone. Totally put up an ad on one of those dating sites - not the ones that made you do a profile, the kind that were like the old newpaper ones.

Mostly it was a joke. No, not a joke. A complaint. A lament for her disappointment, and the culmination of her conversation with Clint.

Kate didn't expect anything to come of it, but it made her feel better.

But it hadn't let her sleep. And now, a good hour or so later still, Kate turns on her phone, and opens up a text bubble..

Hawkeye >> Hey. No need to reply. Just needed to say a thing.

Hawkeye >> Think it's better if we don't see or talk to one another anymore.

Hawkeye >> Yeah. So, just needed to say that. And no I'm not drunk.

Might have been easier if she were. Then again, if she were, she'd likely have sent a very different text. Which reminded her, she'd taken a bottle of her father's best scotch when she was home last time. Oh, he'd complain, but by then the whole matter wuld be moot. She'd tiptoe up and kiss his cheek, and 'Oh daddy' him and he'd forgive her and that would be that. Still, dammit, now who was she going to enjoy that scotch with?

Some demon makes her type out:

Hakweye >> Yet.

She turns her phone off with a sigh, that last text unsent (or so she thinks) and treads out to the livingroom to rescue the bottle. "May as well enjoy this, hey Lucky?" Who helpfully thumps his tail on the ground to agree with his mistress. She might give him another slice, after all, he had to agree! "After all, how often am I going to get to write a Dear John letter to an actual John? You can't make sh.. Ugh. Katie, what's wrong with you. You can't even say it, can you."

Kate sits on the edge of her bed and has a very disrespectful swig of scotch from the bottle. "No wonder, Katie. I mean, even if he were into dating, you're a little girl who has no clue who or what she wants and you can't even say a bad word out loud in case someone is listening and will judge you. Are you even real?"

Kate doubted it. "Oh well, Hawkeye and Hawkeye is back up and running again. That's worth celebrating." With another swig, and Kate crawling into bed, sitting up propped by pillows watching the city lights blink fast and slow outside her bedroom window.

Constantine has posed:
John had just shaken down a contact of his and was celebrating with a late night donair when the texts come in. He's cleaning sauce off his fingers after the first one and only starts reading when the second hits.

"What?" John says dropping his food on the sidewalk.

He types back:

John >> Gonna give me a why?

Then waits, not knowing the phone is off on the other end.

And waits.

And buys a new donair.

And waits.

"Sod it," John says as he throws the wrapper away. He knew the respectufl thing was to leave her alone and let her sort things out, but, he was John Bloody Constantine, respectful wasn't his style.

He flags down a cab and makes his way over to Kate's knocking on her door about an hour after that last text.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
It's likely a good thing kate doesn't see his reply, because 'you're a poopy head boy' might have been a response. Okay, it wouldn't have bee her answer, but deep down inside that's how it felt. That everything was complicated and she wasn't him and she had no clue what she was doing and maybe she really did want something like what Clint had - even if she wasn't sure she wanted it with John.

It was complicated.

Kate is a good third through the bottle when John's knocks come. "Stupid neighours," she complains to Lucky. "Just let them knock. They'll figure out they've got the wrong door or I'm not him." Or something. Yeah. A couple people hadn't gotten the memo that the new Hawkeye in Apartment 3A wasn't the old Hawkeye. Which reminded her she still had to call on that guy.. what was his name again?

Lucky is aware it isn't the neighbours, going to the door and whining. Tail thumping. Leaving Kate to mutter, "You've been out. I'm in bed. Do not make me have to get up." Why'd she get a dog again? Oh yeah, to tick Clint off. And the company. But at moments like this, Kate kind of wished he was the self walking kind.

Constantine has posed:
John sighs and bangs harder on the door. "Katie it's me open up!" he calls inside waiting a few moments before he simply just magics the door open.

Likely not a good idea in the home of a woman with as many bows as Kate owned. He quickly sketches a glyph of protection on him to absorb any arrow fire, then bends down to scratch Lucky behind the ear. "Hey boy, Katie home?" he asks the dog.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate is mid-leaving her bed, not because of the knocking, but because Lucky might really have to go out and it's better than finding any unwanted presents in the morning. Only the bangs come with John's calling out, and then, worse, silence. No more Lucky thumping the floor with his tail or whining at the door, which could only mean one thing: John wasn't outside anymore.

"Traitor," kate breathes under her breath, and her choices are get caught and trapped in her bedroom, or sally forth unto the breach and face him down.

Lucky, traitor that he truly is, is happyily leaning into John's ear scritches, and drooling while trying to lick John's wrist. Lucky really isn't the best guard dog.

Girding her loins for trouble, which is to say she tugs her nightie down into a semblance of propriety, and grabbing up the scotch bottle, Kate marches into the livingroom. "Pretty sure I said this was a bad idea." Actually she'd said they shouldn't do this anymore at all. "Why are you here, John? Because I texted you? Where were you and your texts the past couple weeks? Suddenly worried you're going to lose a good thing when you're not busy with something else so maybe you should come make it better? No fair, John."

And just as easily as the burst of anger is there, it's gone, leaving her to tiredly tell him, "You should go, John. I don't know what I thought I was doing, but it was a mistake."

Constantine has posed:
"Who's a good boy?" John says as the dog licks his arm. "You are, yes you are."

When Kate arrives he looks up and gives Lucky a final scritch before standing up.

John listens to Kate's words, frowning, "Which part was the mistake, texting me or our whole thing?" John says. "As for why I'm here, wanting to know what was up, is all."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Lucky, his job here done, and traitor that he is, gives John another lick, and leaves the room to steal the warm spot in Kate's bedm leaving Kate standing at one end of the couch, staring John down with only the ambient light from streetlights outside lighting up the place.

"Us. We were a mistake. Let's be honest. And no, this isn't because you don't date. It's.. You. Me. Us. Like, you're the kind of guy who it's okay to go weeks without talking to them. And I'm the kind of person who thinks if you're friends you talk. Only you don't do them either, do you?"

She's not really sure how to explain the whirling mess of confusing thoughts in her head and her gut, but talking to Clint had brought them to the surface.

"I want more, John. From someone. And you're..." A sigh. "You're what? An excuse to not look? To never take chances? To tell myself that it's okay, I have this, while simultaneously being sad that I don't have the other and won't have the other and have nothing but a booty call? Why are we even having this conversation? You like when women make it clear they don't want connections. I'm doing what you want, John. Why are you here?"

Constantine has posed:
John gives Lucky a final pat before the dog skitters away to steal the warm spot in Kate's bed.

"No, not really," John says about friends. He only had the one, and like he'd said the man was damn near unkillable. It made life easier, less wories about the bloke.

There's a nod to the rest and no arguments against any of her points, "I'm here because I wanted to know why were not going to be talking at all, if you must know, but you've told me and now I get it, luv, you want more, I'm not up to giving more, it's a good reason, and I hope you find what you're looking for."

There's no ire there, just genuine good wishes.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate nods to his reply. he's had eough scotch that she's just that able to speak her mind where she might not have had he come say, an hour earlier.

"Wow. Nice to know, John. I mean, I get it. I get you don't date. And I meant it, I wasn't asking that of you, but fuck me I thought maybe, just maybe we were better friends than that."

She throws her hands up, the bottle not sloshing only by virtue of being just empty enough to prevent any spills.

"You know, I should have listened when you said that's how you look at things. Thta we don't matter to you, any of us. We're just diversions. Whatever, see yourself out."

She turns and starts back towards her bedroom, turning once, to point at him with the bottle holding hand. "See, that's the difference between us. I actually cared. I get I don't have boogeymen and demons hunting me, but who cares. Every night I go out I might not come back. My friends? same thing. They go out there every night and they know what it means and they still find a way to give a shit about people and let them in."

She gives a softly bitter chuckle, "Matt? Totally head over heels in love with a dead woman whose sole purpose in life was to hunt down him and his friends and kill them to bring some ancient prophecy to life. And he might be stupid as fuck for it, but he still loved her."

She doesn't tell him the end of that tale because he'd just think she was trying to convince him he was in love with her.

"You're just like me. You don't want to let people in because you're afraid you don't deserve it. It's just a nice excuse to tell us all it's because you're hunted."

She gestures with her bottle holding hand, "Now you can go."

Constantine has posed:
John's frown carves a deep crecent into his features, "I told you from the start what you were getting, luv, if you let yourself think otherwise, I did my best to warn you."

He shakes his head. "An' don't say I didn't care, just because my caring doesn't look like how you do it, doesn't make you right and me wrong. I did what I could manage, hell, I thought we were having fun with the movies and such, didn't know there was time limit on things."

"I don't want people in my life because the lucky ones, they just die, what happens to the others is a fair sight worse, but I've told you that before and it didn't take, so no point in going over it again."

When she gestures with the bottle, John simply turns for the door, "Fair 'nuff," he says.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"You don't get decide what other people get to accept. Who made you God to be judge and jury over what someone else gets to accept? Have you any idea how arrogant that is, John? Ever think it's not your right to decide for someone else? Fine, it's not me, whatever. I got that. I even figured out how to deal with that. But you don't get to decide for me that I can't love you because it might damn me or send me to some.."

He's not quite said what it was, but she's guessed. Mostly. Kind of, based on what he does.

"You're going to meet someone some day, John Constantine, and you're going to want to let yourself love them, and you won't because you made yourself the person who decides for them what they can or can't do with their life. And I'll laugh, because you didn't like it when you felt judged."

"For what it's worth, I figured it out. I put the pieces together and figured out what you're so afraid of. Did you know I know people who've met angels? Like real ones. So yeah.. OKay, I forget where I was going with that, but you're not so special John Constantine. We all have demons. Real ones. Pretend ones. Nobody knows what their Fate is, but you are one stupid man for thinking you're saving anyone from anything when you can't even save yourself."

She plunks her butt on the couch. "You want us someday. You'll need us and our help. And then you'll be sorry you pushed us all away."

Constantine has posed:
John just snorts. "You have no bloody idea of what I deal with, luv, so let's not start telling me what's what in my business," he says bitterly as he turns the door handle. "Anyhow, you were right, we were a mistake, neither of us were really listening to the other." He glances back, first to Lucky saying, "You take care of her, right," he says before turning to Kate. "An' I hope you find your more."

He moves to take his leave.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Woah, you still think this is me wanting you to fall in love with me, don't you? Are you serious? And you have no clue what anyone deals with, luv." She throws the word back to him in acidic tones. "You're not so special, John. Seriously. That undead girl? Killing machine. At the time emotionless. Thoughtless. Almost unstoppable. Can't be killed. One. Thought. On. Her. Mind. So, might not be your demons in hell torturing someone, but you're not all that special, John."

She takes a long breath, "This isn't about wanting something more from you. But it makes me so angry that what we were supposed to have isn't even what we have. It's always you. What you want. When it's convenient for you. Always you deciding. I don't even feel I'm a part of this half the time. Like I'm an afterthought you made up in your head to fill in the gaps."

She looks over to the door, "Who was she. Who was it you lost that did this to you. Made you into this person who can't even believe someone might love you despite everything. And John? There are people who can do what you can, and withstand what you're afraid of. So what are you going to tell one of them when you meet them? Because this excuse won't work."

Constantine has posed:
John pauses with the door partially open.

"No, what it's about is that I told you what I was able to do, you went with it and then keep coming back to me telling me it's not enough. Well, there's a simple solution to that, luv, that's me finding someone who's alright with what I can give them and you finding someone who can give you whatever it is you want. Now let me out of this bloody door and let's get on with it, yeah? This talking isn't going to help anything, you were right from the start, Katie, we're a mistake."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"You're right. I guess I expect a text from a friend, John. We're not dating, so why are you treating me like you have to keep me at arm's length?"

"Whatever. Nobody's keeping you here, John. If you didn't care what I was saying you'd have left already."

She leans her head back and closes her eyes.

Constantine has posed:
John stares at her a moment, before he reaches into his coat and pulls a cigarette out and lights it with the tip of his finger. "Don't recall a lot of texts coming my way either," he observes. "Phones work both ways, right."

He's clearly not expecting an answer, and he takes a drag, "Like I said luv, came to find out why the first text I see from you in ages was saying we weren't going to be talking again," he says. "Found out, so might as well get on with it."

He takes a drag and lets out another billow of smoke before he opens the door all the way before stepping through. "Sorry things didn't work out Katie, you and Lucky have a good life."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate doesn't open her eyes, but has to admit, he's right. She'd like to blame it on work, but heck, she could have shot one 'hey' right? "Okay, you got me there. Guess I wanted to matter enough you'd remember. That's not all your fault. Just a bad run of people I'm a second thought to. Figured if you didn't have friends and we were friends you might have.. Sorry about that. Not expecting it, the not texting you part."

The rest, she has no answer for. Other than that last. "What didn't work out. we didn't have anything to work out," she says quietly. To the empty room. "Friends aren't.. you don't.. okay, Katie, you can't say you don't break up with friends if you texted him." She still felt it was awkwardly wrong, and weird to here 'sorry things didn't work out' -- you said that when you broke up with someone you were dating. She and John were decidedly not dating.

"Note to self, Katie, you are not phoning up Darcy Lewis and taking her up on that offer. Do not make me use the big serious words." Then she laughs at herself and takes a swig of the scotch. "Oh, Katie. You're a mess."

Constantine has posed:
John gives an honest shrug, "s'alright I'm a shitty friend, there's no doubt about that," he says about not texting. "Probably should have done more of it, doesn't really come natural," he says.

He says the rest and slips away letting the door close behind him. His thoughts travelling down similar paths to Kate's, minus the bit with Darcy, shaking his head. What were they even?

Taking a long drag of his cigarette he tosses the thing away into the gutter, then starts walking towards the back of Gino's where he can summon the door back home. "Johnny Boy," he tells himself as he walks. "The two of you are a bloody mess."