9848/Knightfall: Seeking Sorcerers

Knightfall: Seeking Sorcerers
Date of Scene:	31 October 2019
Location:	The Fifty/Fifty Club
Synopsis:	Carrie and Jason go in search of the infamous John Constantine to enlist his expertise in helping Batman. Jason takes up smoking again.
Cast of Characters:	Constantine, Red Hood, Carrie Kelley
Tinyplot:	Knightfall

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Constantine has posed:
The Fifty Fifty is a shit hole bar in a shit hole city.

It should be the places Motto.

John Constantine belongs here though as he, too, is a shit hole.

Sitting at a table with a glass of cheap scotch and a smoldering cigarette, he's watching last weeks Manchester United game. "Oh for fucks sake! Learn to kick you tosser..." Motioning, cigarette between his index/middle finger, at the screen when one of the local regulars turns to glare at him. "This is the reason you bloody Americans put pads on your shoulders and carried the ball with your hands innit?"

Constantine leans back in his chair and extends a foot out beneath the table, "I've money on this game.."

Red Hood has posed:
Into the bar walks a couple, one tall, broad shouldered, blonde, dressed in a suit and tie, the other dark haired, and in an eye catching dress.

Jason, the blonde thanks to some temporary hair gel, surveys the bar and smiles, "Bit of a step up for our second 'date'," he remarks with a smirk. "Now let's go find a warlock."

It doesn't take long to find someone matfching the description of the infamous Constantine, Jason nods in the man's direction. "That looks like our guy, wanna lead the approach?" A smile. "You're more of a people person."

Carrie Kelley has posed:
Carrie Kelley had opted for a very long black wig which was affixed with all the skill and mastery of someone who had worked in theater productions for a good portion of her life. The dress was a slinky number that was not at all unflattering, though a bit... Well. It was close to Halloween. It *almost* looks like something Morticia Adams might wear but not quite that daring. As she moves it's with a confident, almost predatory movement she borrowed off another dark haired woman.

If she was going to be helping to harbor Talia al Ghul, she might as well use her for disguise mannerisms.

"We never made it to a second date," Comes an amused reply to Jason only for her green eyes to give an expressive roll at his suggestion. "Oh, of course. Leave it up to me again." Granted, last time she had known the sorcerer they were going to chat with. This time? No such luck.

The room is crossed in a few quick strides as she cuts a path across toward where he sits casting only a glance toward the television and game there that was ongoing. "If they're doing that badly, perhaps you'd enjoy some conversation instead?"

Constantine has posed:
Constantine is drawn to skimpy dresses like flies to the Manchester United football club and his head turns in the direction of the entering pair with alacrity born of drunken paranoia... Could be the booky, dontcha know?

His cigarette smells a little herbal, not like pot, so much as incense, and have a very distinct aroma to them. British, silk cuts, very hard to get. And he smokes them like a freight train.

Tapping off ashes as he sizes up the pair, his attention goes back up to the screen as Calgory scores another goal, much to the Brits chagrin, "Ah, for... Christ, it's not like the ball is stealth technology! Put your bloody hands up and blo-" There goes his hands, straight up in exasperation, smoke coiling out from his nostrils in a stream of discontent.

When he's addressed, he glances back up at could be Moriticia with a dubious expression, "Whats that again? Plenty of empty seating right over there..." Pointing at... basically every other table in the joint. "Pick one, talk real loud.. them lads at the bar are a chatty bunch of fuckers, maybe they'll answer. I understand that's how it's done in the wilds of Gotham."

Red Hood has posed:
The way Carrie nails Talia's mannerisms is a little unnerving but well, undeinably attention getting. Jason for his part just tries to blend, figuring with all eyes on Carrie they won't be looking at the blonde guy beside her.

"Keep walking like that and we'll have to fix that," Jason quips as they approach the table. The roll of Carrie's eyes has him grinning. "Well we could do it my way but I am sure it'll be less fun for everyone."

Slamming heads on tables and pulling out a gun, really didn't help win people over.

Though as John points to all the open seats around the bar, Jason pulls one out at John's table and sits down dropping a fifty when he does, "We're buying. That help any, 'guv'nah'," he says in the world's worst Cockney accent. Like even Dick Van Dyke is groaning.

Carrie Kelley has posed:
Carrie seems about to respond to John when Jason takes the opportunity to sit while flashing a bit of money. Instead of rolling her eyes this time she merely offers a tight lipped smile, and an innocent shrug. Another chair is slid out only to let her sink bonelessly down into it keeping her legs tucked to the side away from the table. An elbow leans against the tabletop while her manicured fingers tap lightly to her chin in a thoughtful gesture.

"I believe we're just fine here. Relax, Mr. Constantine, we came to seek your aid."

Constantine has posed:
"And I'm watching the game." John says to Jason, finishing off his drink with a snap of his wrist upwards and a craning of his head back. "But if you're keen on buying, by all means, handle my bar tab..." Pointing at said bar until Carrie, likewise, sits down at the table with him. "Are you two taking the piss?" Looking steadily between them with the cigarette back in his mouth for an easy, slow burning drag that fills the air around him with steel gray smoke.

"Alright, two things..." He holds up a finger and points it at Jason, "When a yank says 'guv'nah, he sounds like a twat. Do you want to sound like a twat? ARE you a twat? You look like a twat... And I know twats." Second finger, both pointed at Carrie, "My da is Mr. Constantine. I'm John, Constantine, John Constantine, or hey fucker. We'll get along swimmingly if you keep it that way..." Blue eyes move back and forth.

"Let's have it then.. you've to the end of the quarter." Nudging his chin up to the television.

Red Hood has posed:
"Neat, this is more important," Jason says about the game. "Besides it's soccer, we've got half-way to the next ice age before somebody scores," he smiles into the cloud of smoke surrounding their little table.

The smile is still there when Jason deadpans, "What's a twat?"

Carrie getting them to the point, draws Jason out of the pissing contest enough to nod in support. "Yeah, what she said, there's someone hurt, we need some help that goes beyond the sort of thing you can find at the hospital."

Carrie Kelley has posed:
"He is indeed a twat," Carrie agrees. "The King of Twats in fact." A sidelong glance is cast toward him with a wry grin. "And it's 'football', not soccer, at least when speaking to someone from outside the US. We're the only ones that call it that." At least she knew that much. Tsk.

A long, weary sigh is exhaled, "However our reason for being here is quite genuine. We were seeking the aid of Dr. Strange, but unfortunately he's unable to do so due to prior commitment." A slight drum of her fingers as she adds, "And personal issues. Really I wasn't sure where to look next, but your name came up, so..." Another shrug, and she leans back in her chair. Which is to say she leans away from the table and sits up straighter like someone who's been taught to do that to the point it's second nature. No slouching!

Constantine has posed:
"You're clearly the more charismatic of the pair of you." John deadpans back at Jason, "Let me see if I've sized you.. you're one of those blokes that needed one or two more hugs than you got and probably still sleep with a teddy bear named after your dad?" Head tilt one way, then the other, "Probably harboring some deep resentment towards authority figures too.. So.. basically we could be cousins."

Regarding the aforementioned soccor to football arguement, John just points at Carrie with fingers clutching his cigarette.

Then to the business at hand, "Mm.. Doctor Stephen Strange.. now there's a proper twat... ney, he's a cunt. High and mighty sorcerer supreme quote un-fucking-quote." With fingers, "Probably had a prior engagement dusting his fucking attic or sweeping one of the many many hallways in his Tardis like Sanctum." He takes one final drag from the filter and stubs it out in the overflowing ashtray, blowing smoke out with a hiss. "Otherwise a good guy, if you can get past the fact he's a hack."

Eyes moving back and forth between them, then the television, and finally settled upon Carrie. "What's in it for me?"

Red Hood has posed:
Jason's grin at Constantine's assessment, doesn't quite how surprised he is by it's accuracy. "Step dad actually, but pretty close," he says to further play that off before grinning at the cousins bit. "Sorry to hear that," because if John's own life was like Jason's, yeah, sorry was the right word.

As for the soccer/football debate, Jason just deapans: "The King of Twats calls soccer whatever he damn well likes," though there's a touch of a wry smirk as he says. "Perks of being king."

Then it's time for business, and since John looked to Carrie, Jason, for once, just shuts the hell up.

Carrie Kelley has posed:
The question was a valid one. When everyone's attention turns toward Carrie waiting to hear what might be offered she remains quiet a moment as several options are ticked off in her mind. He let Jason pay his tab. He *had* a tab, which meant either drinking was an issue, or money may be. Or both. Could be both. Then again... He was a sorcerer. Likely there were other things.

"We're willing to offer a hefty sum of money. Or, if you're more inclined..."

A manicured finger is drawn to her lips to press just between them so the tip of her tongue wets it. It's drawn out then to descend to the tabletop while making direct eye contact with Constantine. Slowly her damp finger traces a symbol over the table.

"A favor owed."

When her hand withdraws there's a barely visible clean spot on the table in the symbol of a bat.

"From him."

Constantine has posed:
"King of twats." Constantine snorts at Jason, "King of lost toys, maybe.. don't let the lady fill your head with misgivings about your place in the twatierarchy, son.. I'm way up there. High enough you'll need a latter to lick the bottom of my oxford." In short, John is a bigger twat.

Self proclaimed.

His hand dips down into his dingy coat to retrieve his pack of smokes and a small metal match container. A cigarette is tapped out against his finger and captured between his lips, but the container is rattled up near his ear to the quiet sound of a single match dinking around inside.

"Mmm.. seems like you've luck on your side tonight." Match strikes and he's temporarily illuminated with the soft orange glow as he lights his cigarette and waves out the flame. "I heard he's dead." Tapping at the symbol, "I also heard he shoots lightning bolts from his ass and can lasso the moon, but we both know that's bollocks.. so.." Hands up, shoulders shrugging.

Constantine leans back and eyes them both critically, "The Bat. He's the one needs mending, innit?"

Red Hood has posed:
"Well, then, Hail to the King," Jason says with a grin and a nod to Constantine, reliquishing his royal claims. Though when John claws another of those smokes out of his pack, Jason looks at it longingly. "You're killing me, John, can you spare one of those?" Jason didn't smoke often these days, but with the level of stress he'd been living under the last week and now breathing in John's second hand smoke, the old cravings were coming back.

Carrie's offer however does draw Jason's attention rather completely in the next moment, a joke about, 'you're not going to offer him your body too' just barely held in for the sake of not throwing off her little sales pitch, but it shows on his face with a brief smirk that is quickly smoothed.

He leaves the confirmation to Carrie too.

Carrie Kelley has posed:
Carrie Kelley resists the urge to kick Jason under the table at that look shot her way. Now wasn't the time to fight like, well, siblings. She'd smack him later. A simple dip of her head is inclined in John's direction along with a quiet, "Mmhm. He's asked us to explore avenues outside of current science given the severity of the situation. Strange felt he was unable to help given his past."

It's here she pauses to share a look with Jason. A deep breath drawn, she asks simply, "Will you, and can you help?"

"And you're smoking outside the car if you do. I'm not getting my car smelling like an ashtray," is shot in Jason's direction.

Constantine has posed:
Jason's request is answered with a flick of the cigarettes in his direction. John regards him for a second, then holds out a cheap plastic lighter between his fingers while smoking with the other hand. The whole interplay between the young pair isn't lost on him, not by a long shot, he just doesn't seem to care.

Very likely he's in pretty deep on this alcohol bender.

"I can." John assures Carrie with a nod, still watching the symbol as smoke blooms up along the sides of his nostrils, "And I will. There are worse things than being owed a favor by Batman.. and I'm pretty good about the contract work that binds him to it, too..." Magic, or just fancy words, either way Constantine is good for making sure he's paid back when he needs to be.

"So what's the severity? I assume if he's bloody Superman injuries, they're nothing to puff at.. but I need particulars so I know what kind of spell I'm crafting and who I'll be negociating with to get the necessary reagents."

Red Hood has posed:
Jason takes the cigarettes, knocks one out and and lights, offering John a "Thanks," before sliding the pack back over to the warlock. Silk Cut was /not/ his brand, and Jason coughs a little after his first drag. "Strong," he says, but damn the hit of nicotine was doing him good.

"The car's safe," Jason assures Carrie. "This thing'll likely kill me before we hit the curb."

He's still puffing it though as he digs around in his pocket and puts a device on the table flicking it on. "White noise generator," he says. These were details they didn't want overheard.

Carrie Kelley has posed:
"If I don't first," Carrie agrees with a crinkle of her nose as the level of smoke at the table significantly rises from 'dingy smokey bar' to 'I HEARD YOU LIKE SMOKE SO I GOT YOU SOME SMOKED SMOKE'. Her sinuses were not going to like her later.

When the device is produced on the table she does let out a small sigh. It would make the conversation all the easier at least now. Lacing her fingers together on the tabletop she begins to explain in precise detail. "The level of his injuries are fairly severe, though most can be recovered from in time. However, damage and pressure on his cervical vertebrae have rendered him partially paralyzed. If he were to push himself in the state he's in it would risk fully severing his spinal chord."

A level gaze is fixed on Constantine. "I think we both know he's going to push himself. This is what we need to focus on having remedied. Sooner than later, hopefully."

Constantine has posed:
Constantine gets a sick sort of enjoyment out of watching Jason struggle with the cigarette. Not because it brings the kid pain, just that it's been about as long as Jason is old since John had those same troubles himself. "They sneak up on you, innit? Grab you by the curly hairs and tug..." There's a long pull from his own and ashes rained down onto the floor off to his right with his attention returning to Carrie by way of the white noise device.

"Fancy." His finger sits on the table, slowlyd rawing little symbols that leave no indication at all as to what they mean or don't.. "I think I know just the thing. A back brace..." The Brit jokes, smirking around the smoldering cigarette in his lips, "A Bat brace.. heh... I can fix a back, but it'll be taxing and there'll be more debts owed than just to me. You go fucking around with the natural order of things and things take notice. By all rights, bloke should be dead... so I suppose he'll be able to handle the strain."

Red Hood has posed:
"Bring it," Jason smirks to Carrie, even as he turns a little so his smoke isn't going /directly/ into her face.

Jason's attention shifts to Constanine and then to the cigarette, "Just a bit. But I dunno, they're growing on me," he says very much covering. He wasn't sure how long the urge to smoke would hang around this time but if it was longer than right now, he was going back to his Lucky's.

The white noise generator earns a small grin, "We have the best toys, no Bat-Brace though," he takes a drag to let John carry on, before he speaks up with another question. "What sort of debts are we talking?"

Carrie Kelley has posed:
Carrie Kelley purses her lips into a thin line as she contemplates this. It doesn't help that she knew something of this magical stuff, if only through talking to various people. Not the 'how to do it' but... "Exchanges, J. Like when I offered to let Strange use my body for the surgery. It would have taken a lot of energy and that doesn't come from no where." She pauses, then adds, "I think that's why they sacrifice chickens and stuff in all those horrible witchcraft movies from years ago. Though I doubt a chicken is going to work. Right?"

She wasn't entirely sure there, to be honest, and just looks at John questioningly before clearing her throat. "Well if the favor isn't enough, as I said, there's money to help pad out the effort you'll be putting in. Even stocks if you'd prefer a portfolio rather than cash."

Constantine has posed:
Constantine wiggles his hand at Carrie's explanation, then captures the cigarette from his lips and flicks ashes off on the floor, "Something like that.. even if we'd be sacrificin', it wont be bloody chickens, no.. I dont want to bore you with the grizzly details, but suffice to say a bloke like Batman leaves a pretty distinct and big fucking imprint on the spiritual world, doesn't he?" John pushes back from the table with a screech of wood on concrete, reaches out to drain his glass of scotch, pocket the fifty Jason laid on the table, and stub out his cigarette after one final drag.

"I don't know what it'll cost, mind. I just know that it will.. and money probably wont cut it for the wankers I'll have to pay." Blue eyes cut between the pair of them, a wry grin on his stubbled face, "Thankfully it works plenty good for me." John Constantine is a pragmatic man.

"Give me you number and I'll call you on the tele once I've got everything ready. Shouldn't be but a spat few days though.." And probably a jaunt off into places he doesn't care to think about just now.

Once he's got a number, John departs, flicking the collar of his jacket up as he exits the Fifty Fifty, completely forgetting the game... that or getting ahead of the bookie, since Manchester just lost.