9745/Church is for suckers

Church is for suckers
Date of Scene:	24 October 2019
Location:	Tribeca - Manhattan
Synopsis:	Constantine is drinking at the church, Fiona stops by for a religious lesson.
Cast of Characters:	Constantine, Fiona Glenanne

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Constantine has posed:
The most likely place to find Constantine on a Thursday afternoon is drinking at his favorite watering hole: St. Peter's Church in Tribeca. If he's being completely honest though, any place is a good place to drink, this is just a more ironic one. Sitting on the bench out infront of the famed church with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, drab brown overcoat open over his wrinkled white button up with the top four buttons undone, he's a tie on.. but only barely.

One arm runs along the back of the bench, cigarette clutched between his knuckles and a brown paperbag clutched in his fingers. It's right around noon, so most people are on their way to, or back from, lunch. "Mmm... I'm not homeless, you can keep your bloody mo- oh no that's silver coins, thanks mate." Kneeling forward to hold a quarter which he slides into his pocket.

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fi's coming over here to cleanse her soul. She's killed, robbed, stolen. She's looking for salvation. But first she has to get to the church. Which involves her finding a spot to park. Then, oh yes, ,making sure her car's locked. Then walking. With a still not quite healed foot from kicking a demoness in the face. Fi's not in a good mood, swearing softly under her breath. Thanks, pain, thanks a lot....as she drags her foot along a bit and she's not a happy camper in the least. Fi, though, is just slowly walk,g clad in a coat for fall, dark cream, her usual salmon color blouse, and jeans and boots under it. Her hair's wild and free, too....and it's windblown. It's like Fi tried to shove her finger in a power outlet to see what'd happen, hair wise.

Constantine has posed:
Just the kind of Bonnie Lass that would attract the attention of our across the pond Warlock. Constantine perks a brow at the wild haired Fiona make her soul right with the ol'mighty, "Love, I don't think what you need's in there.." Extending a finger out towards the doors to the church. He knows that look in a womans eyes, oh yes he does. "I've got what you need right here." Oh lord, it's a pick up line. Complete with wolf whis- oh wait, no, he's holding out the brown paper bag, "I call it salvation in a bottle... one hundred percent more successful than a thousand Hail Mary's or Our Fathers."

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fiona looks to the warlock and shakes her head, though she steps closer. "So, you're out here getting wasted and trying to get meme drunk?" she asks. Sure, the guy's looking disheveled, but...but.... she's staying where she is.

"So, what's in the bottle then that's so successful?" she asks. There's a tone of genuine curiosity to her voice. "Go on. Tell me" she all but demands, hands on her hips. Fi's temper is as vibrant as her hair, and she cants her head a little at the man. "You think getting drunk will fix my problems, I did that alread and it got me more problems"

Also a new adopted family, too. She looks to the bottle. "So, a bottle's the answer to church? Only reason I go is because it's old habits" Fiona says simply, arms folded. Though her tone's less angry now. She's understanding. "You went and thought it wasn't for you, so you drink now? I wish I could" she says, voice sliding into sympathy as she steps nearer to the bench.

Constantine has posed:
John lets Fi work through the complicated emotions that comes with a decision like Church or Beer, though there is decidedly not beer in that paper bag. While she's doing so, he brings the cigarette clutched between two fingers to his lips for a drag, then leaves it there. One eye squints at her, but it's mostly because of the smoke from the smoldering filter he's still pulling on like a champ.

Once he's realized that though, he sets the brown bag down, since she's not taking it anyways, and fishes out a pack of cigarettes from an inside pocket of his coat. A little jerk wrist toss has one filter sticking from the paper carton, captured between his lips, and lit with the turned around burning filter of the last. Periodically glancing up at her, waving her to continue while he takes a few drags and tosses the filter towards the street like he doesn't read signs about litering.

"Nah, love, you just look like shit and I was trying to be helpful.. I mean all church is is an ear to talk to and a fella pretending he's got divine answers, innit? So..." The paper bag is, again, offered to her, but only once he's drunk some himself, "A sip of grandpas cough meds, sit down beside weird uncle Connie, and tell us your troubles, eh? Worst that can happen is nothing... sames'll happen in there.. only you got a drink out of it."

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fi does sit and takes the bottle. "Ah what the hell. You got a point. I've prayed, I've prayed. And I've prayed for dead people. They died" Fi says without any theatrics. She looks like she's seen things. Things nobody sane should see, but Fi's sanity is in question given all she's done. Shaking her head Fi takes a swallow and hands the bottle back. "Weird uncle. So, Uncle." Fi says with a smart mouthed tone to her voice. I" look like shit? Let's see. I was out late last night, I got up early. I had two hours sleep and am living on churros and dollar coffee, and drinks. It's like being back in Ireland if you swap the churros and dollar coffee for alcohol and cheap food" she shrugs and raises her palms. "Y'know, You got a point there. In there's all crap and such. All our father this, all jesus said that. Question. Did any God ever tell you to kill in their name? Because that's where I'm from. Grew up in Ireland. Ran with a good crowd then got out of there and away from it when I got sick of it" Fi admits. Apparently the 'cough medicine's loosened her tongue. "FOund a new crowd now. Less violent, but doing good for the world"

Constantine has posed:
Sans bottle, John is free to reclaim the cigarette between unfettered fingers and lay it out across the back of the bench. His hand does come up a little, more when he turns to face Fi with one leg crossing the other at the knee, and flicks at his unruly blonde curly bangs between down turned wrist drags from the cigarette in those fingers.

All the while his eyes are on her.

It isn't even lecherous, just watching. Letting her work it out.

"Liverpool, myself." He adds when she says she's from Irsland, suspiciously accomodating with how little he's adding to the conversation, "Well, you seem like a wholesome dove, but here's the real secret..." Smoke boils out of his nostrils, then curls from his mouth in little circular patterns, "God doesn't give a flying fuck about any of us. And I'm not saying that as a cavalier disdain for religion, it's cold facts.. Like sky is blue (purple actually, you can look that up if you want) and water is wet (but made of gases, also a fact, check it)."

His hand extends out to take the bottle in the brown paperbag to get a swig for himself, "Now, he exists, because I've seen the bloke... well I've seen some of his angels... but they may as well be him innit? Divine host and all that bollocks.. but that doesn't mean he gives a wank about us.." Another swig, bottle held back out to Fi, "You want forgiveness, love? Find it yourself because I can promise you this, nothing in there is going to free your soul from this..." Waving a finger up and down the disheaveled womans appearance. "That's all you."

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fi laughs. "It's a crock of shit" she agrees and looks thoughtful. "You know why they bombed places, and killed all those people?" she asks with a look, a far off look like she was there. "Religion. Absolute religion. Catholics killling Protestants, Protestants killing Catholics in the street, blowing things up" Fi says with anger in her voice. She'd been there. She shrugs and looks over to the church. "Ya know, I'd like to go in there and give the faithful a bit of my mind" she says. Apparently she's emboldened by the alcohol. Which may or may not be safe for all concerened.

"So" she says. "You're anti religion. I'm anti stupid religion" she admits

Fi runs a hand through her hair smoothing it....slightly. "So" Fiona adds watching the warlock. "What are you really doing here? Out here. On a bench. Drinking by a church?"

Constantine has posed:
"No sense losing your top over it." Constantine says nonchallantly around another drag from the half burned cigarette in his fingers, "You've a better chance of curing world hunger than fixing religions crippling hold on the stupid.. especially if your plan is to tell them how stupid it is.. They don't believe two hundred years of science, I don't seem them suddenly one eighty on some base logic." His voice is slightly smoke strained until he blows a steady cloud of steel from pursed lips.

"If you want to be somebody, if you want to go somewhere? You've got to wake up and pay attention..." So he's quoting song lyrics, does that mean the advice wrong? Certainly not.

The cigarette drops down onto the sidewalk so a oxford shoe can turn on the heel and grind it down into the pavement. "Keep the bottle, you need it more than me, yeah?" Patting at her arm with one slap of his palm. "And if at all possible.. try not to blow up the church... it might be useless for your soul, but it's still pleasant on the eyes."

No, he did not answer her question.