Owner	Pose
Constantine	The night hadn't gone exactly to plan. Actually it didn't go to plan twice. It first went off the rails when John brought Kate home and he realized she was way too drunk or he was way to sober for them to sleep together. Then part way through the night letting her sleep it off on the couch went wrong when John, drunk and a little buzzed on pills managed to what was left of Kate's champagne on said couch, and Kate as well. From there, John had woken Kate from her magical slumber in an effort to get her moved to the bed and out of the pool of booze. It had worked but in the process Kate, who was still /very/ drunk had torn her wet clothes off in the process. Tried to seduce him again, then passed out on his bed, leaving John to cover her up, then finish his bottle of whiskey, on the way to taking a cold shower. When morning came, John woke from where he'd gone to sleep on the chair in his room, massaging the crink in his neck as he wandered off to the kitchen to make some tea, likely spiked with the hair of the dog who bit him, because god his head hurt. Though, as he'd had to change out of his own clothes, alchohol doused as they were, he left, the naked and slumbering Kate in a room strewn with both their clothes as he brewed up tea for them both.
Kate Bishop	Kate, as it happens, does not remember any of that. She most *certainly* does not remember her giggling striptease of wet clothes as though John weren't in the room, and if it weren't for the fact that in her state she actually made noises of invitation, one might argue she had no clue. Though, as luck, or chance, or providence allowed, Kate was entirely too drunk to follow through on those invitations, falling asleep again even before John managed to steal a kiss. If John were another man, he might have been entirely insulted by the process. Morning comes... Kate stirs, stretching out in a bed that is entirely too large to be her own, and decidedly more well appointed than the one in her apartment, his sheets of a much better quality - slick and smooth to the touch where hers were the slightly nubbed drab of second hand sheets that had been washed entirely too much. The second thing that hits her is that she's naked. The third thing she notices by virtue of sitting bolt upright, sheets clutched to her chest, and gasping, is that her head is *splittingly* angry with her - almost to the point of needing to shut her eyes against the decently dim lighting of the room. "Ow ow ow ow.." And then she notices John. Scowls, and points, "You!"
Constantine	Indeed another man might have been offended by it all, but John wasn't most men, really a naked girl passed out in his bed and no sex barely registered as a blip on his radar. As far as the sort of curveballs the universe threw John, it was almost kind. After all Kate was really Kate and not some demon, and she was still alive, which did put it above several other unexpected endings to dates he can think of. Really, it was more funny than anything else. That didn't mean John wasn't going to take the piss with her just a little bit though. Returning with the tea, and hearing her wake, John set down the cups, shed his clothes and threw on a house coat before coming back to the bedroom with the tea in hand. That 'You!' is met with a smile. "Morning, lover," he greets cheerily as he can with his headache. "Want a cuppa?"
Kate Bishop	"We did not.." Kate stops, and blinks, because she has no memory past some point in the club where she's starting seeing double, the halos of the club lighting playing tricks with her eyes, she'd told herself (when in truth it was several glasses of champagne in short order and not the lights at all). After that.. nothing. She couldn't even remember how they'd gotten here, let alone all the 'fun' bits inbtween that she guessed they must have done? A fairly deep pink-turning-scarlet creeps up her cheeks. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm not normally like that. Oh god, how am I going to explain this.." Kate stops short there, because just who was she explaining anything to? (which was ultimately sobering and sad - there wasn't anyone who was going to be either happy for her or disappointed in her, bar counting her father, and she wasn't counting him). Though she now remembered what had brought this little flurry of un-Katelike activity to bear. "Coffee, or tea?" wincing inwardly as she thinks of the typical phrasing of that, and how untimely that slipup and drift of thoughts might be.
Constantine	John manages to keep a straight face. "You mean you don't remember?" he asks her. "Best night of my life," he lies easily. When she begins her torrent of excuses his expression remains a faint grin as he makes his way over to his bed. "Explain to who? You're a big girl, don't have to explain anything to anyone," he says. Though the coffee or tea line, that gets a bit of a smile. "Or you?" he asks with a raise of his brows. "Well, tea to start anyhow, put it a little whiskey in it to help with the hangover, hair of the dog, works like magic," John says sitting down on the bed and offering a cup.
Kate Bishop	Kate is in the awkward position of how to hold both sheet and offered tea. "Uhm.. you don't happen to have a shirt or something I can use, do you?" She'd say borrow, but she might have to burn the thing after to banish the demons of her poor choices the night before. He's right, though, she's a grown girl, right? She doesn't owe anyone any explanations.. other than maybe herself, and as quickly as that single solitary bright moment of being okay with this arrives, it's gone and left a new layer of shame in its wake. "I'm better than this," Kate says in a disappointed voice, then immediately aware of things, offers a quick protest to John, "Not that there's anything wrong with you or anything. I mean, you seem nice enough and everything, it's just you're not really my type, and.. I am not making this better am I?" A sigh deflates her shoulders down to a further slump. "Nope. Not helping at all." He's given a tired look. "Best night of your life, huh?" Okay, that's when it hits her. He can *see* it dawning on Kate as awareness crawls up her features faster than that blush had moments ago. "Oh. Em. Gee. You made all that up. You just pretended that we slept together. Did you even sleep in the bed?" A quick turn of head shows hers to be the only pillow indent. "That's just mean. Why would you do that to me? You had me thinking we.. we.. You know what you had me thinking we did."
Constantine	John chuckles, "Not anything I haven't seen already," he says, which was true enough she did give him quite a show before, but he understood the awkwardness, he was a bastard but not a right bastard. He sets down the tea and goes to his dresser, scooping up his boxers with his foot and kicking them into his hand as he goes. He pulls them on and then digs an old t-shirt from the dresser. It was an old Sex Pistol's concert tee that had seen better days. He tosses it to her after that 'I'm better than this' comment. "Can't say that you are," he says turning around so she could pull it on without further debasement. The words however stung in some small way, though John being John he covered with humour, "Oh plenty wrong with me." he assures her before he asks non-chalantly, "An' you're on the pill right?" John missing the expressions but he can hear it in her tone well enough to know the gig is up even before she says so. "As a matter of fact, no I bloody didn't," he says of sleeping in the bed. "You passed out on the couch, there was a bit of a cock up with the champagne then I moved you here where it was dry, or rather you moved you here, while stripping off your clothes and coming on to me. Didn't seem the thing to do, lay right down beside you, couldn't be sure my virtue would be safe," he jokes with a grin. "Lord knows my neck wasn't sleeping in that chair, as for the rest, that was a little bit of fun for having me kicked out my own bed."
Kate Bishop	He was.. naked as a jaybird under that housecoat. How had she missed that up to this point? Kate really wasn't sure how she had, but now she did, and she was in the awkward position of both wanting to avert her eyes oh lord and peek. Which is how she ends up with her hand over her eyes, fingers splayed just enough to facilitate peeking. Which he likely noticed, as he effortlessly tosses her that tee fully expecting her to catch the thing. Damn her reflexes, she does, reaching out into the air and grabbing it without thinking, leaving her to look sheepish - both for peeking, and for trying to avert her eyes oh lord like a virginal schoolgirl. "Fine. I guess I deserved that. And I didn't mean it that way either," she says of the 'you're not so bad..' stumble. "I mean, do you really see us together?" As she speaks, she pulls the tee-shirt on, and once her head pops through the neckline, tilts her head at him. "I'm not really your type. Kinda uppity. Maybe a bit uptight. Not really sure who I am or what I want? I don't know."
Constantine	John does spot her peeking. "Enjoy the view?" he asks without a hint of modesty. "I'd give things a little shake but I've got me boxers on, so you're out of luck," he needles as he looks ceilingwards while she puts on the shirt. He grabs the tea again and brings it over to her sitting on the edge of the bed. "Sounded like you did," he says of meaning it. "An' it's fine if you did. I don't have any illusions about who I am, sketchy wizard and right bastard." He gives a shrug and takes a sip of his whiskey laced tea eyes slipping closed with enjoyment. Even toss between it being the tea or the whiskey he was enjoying so much, he /was/ British after all. "Depends on what you mean by together," John says as he lowers his cup. "Probably could conjure some pretty vivid images of us together in bed and a couple of other places, but if you mean dinner, movies and moonlit walks, I'm not really that type, luv. Trust me, that's for the better," he says with vaguely haunted look which he snaps out of quickly. "An' we're all trying to work out who we are, that's what life is, but if it helps any you said last night you wanted to be more than stuffy goody two-shoes Kate, an' that's not a line, but a little bit of truth I doubt you'd remember what with all the drinking.":
Kate Bishop	Kate looks truly abashed as John tells her not only did it sound like she meant it, but paints it like she's a snob and her position (etc) is why he's unsuitable. "Is that what it really sounded like? Like you're not okay because you're not rich or something?" She's really not sure how that's how she sounded, but she must have if he's telling her that. Her innards curling up into a ball of shame, because that's not even remotely the person she believes herself to be. "I didn't mean it that way at all. You're just.. wordly. And you do things someone like me doesn't. I mean, can you really see me screwing you and then swatting your behind and telling you to get me a bottle of water on your way out?" There's a sighed laugh. "Ugh. See? That there, that's what I'm trying to get away from." The whole Kate's a walk in the park, hold hands undermoonlight, teehee behind her fingers, oh no, we never to *that* kinda girl. "And see? You don't see me as the kind of girl you want either. Only you make it sound better you not wanting me because it sounds less like a loser thing if it's just because I want romance versus you think my father would choke on his own outrage if I brought you home." She pauses. "That's almost reason enough to take you home, I'll have you know. But I'm not like that, not really. The guy I was in love with for so long - he was a circus jerk. I mean, I know I have that whole trustfund thing and everyone thinks I'm slumming it for fun, which is a whole other thing, and waiting for me to give it up and laugh at them all and go home where I really belong.. But you don't know what it's like, always being judged for what you have. Or what people expect you to be because of it. Or do for them. You think any of them like me for me?" She takes a sip of her tea and nearly chokes. "How much whiskey did you put in here? Is there even any tea?"
Constantine	"Nah it wasn't the money thing," John says honestly. "Just you're a better person than me is all," he says matter-of-factly. "An' I tend to get the good people around me dead." "Though the smacking me on the arse bit sounds decent," he part way gets up, turning his butt Kate's way. "Wanna give it a go?" he teases before sitting down again and rumaging in the side table for a cigarette, He sets down the tea and fishes around in his bed side table for a smoke, he finds one then lights it with his finger tip before a thought strikes and he digs out two, "Want one?" he asks her. She did have a point about him assuming what sort of girl she was. "Well, what /do/ you want Kate?" he asks her honestly. "I'll admit to making some assumptions on that score," though at mentioning the idea of taking him home to daddy, he grins. "Well, however things go between us, gimme a call for that some time, sounds like a bit of fun." "Guessing not," he says of them liking Kate for Kate. "Want the money, or just see you as a nice piece to have a bit of fun with. Me I tend not to worry too much why who I'm with want me, just that they do, but then, that could be a case of different objectives." Kate's foray into the tea gets a laugh. "About 9 to 1, that's how it's supposed to be right? Tea flavoured whiskey?" he jokes.
Kate Bishop	She's still choking as she laughs at the tea flavoured whiskey comment. "That's about what I thought. I don't usually drink this stuff." For a moment she considers the cigarette than shakes her head. "I'm good, thanks. Not sure I need to take up smoking just to prove a point. As for what I want to do? I thought I wanted to do good. To make things better because I could. Only it's not proving to be that easy." She scooches back in the bed, relaxing against the headrest so that she can draw her knees up to use as a 'table' for her teacup. "I find when people find out I have money, they look at me differently. Either they're upset I lied, or they get that what can she do for me look. And the people I grew up with with money, they all take it for granted. There's this whole level of things that never gets further than skin deep. We grew up together and we're all strangers. Everything is this huge act." "I'm not sure you're right about the I'm a better person. I mean, look at me. I pretend I have no money and run around the streets at the night thinking I'm making a difference against crime, when maybe what I should be doing is taking all my money and throwing it at charities or something. Maybe I'm just doing the other so I don't have to actually do anything real." Another sip of tea is braved. "I'm sure you're not responsible for people dying."
Constantine	John nods, "Figured as much, but if you'd rather tea without there's more in the pot," he says. "An' I'll be happy to drink that if you won't." There was a smile at the offer. As for the cigarette, "Good choice," he says. "Mind if I do though?" he asks, sure it was his own bloody bedroom in his own bloody house (as much as the House was his house) but it felt right to ask. Must be losing his edge. "Well, do good then, by any means you can," John reasons. "Bugger, hard. How you do it doesn't matter, beating up blokes while looking good in tights, or writing cheques or both if it floats your boat." He scooches up to the headboard next to her, throwing a pillow on the floor, his own legs pulled up in front of him. Cigarette still unlit dangling from his lips like a pro. "Well, the money doesn't make me see you any different it that counts for much, money, no money, it's all the same to me. Look at me. I live in a bloody big magical mansion, but still the same bloke as I was in a tiny flat in the East End. Just stuff and scenery, the things that matter are inside." Which was exactly John's point about being a better person. "You try, and I'm betting you save people," John did too. "But you're wrong about me, I'm responsible for a lot of people dying, or worse, and so, standing firm on you being the better person, but then that's a low bar to set," he says with a sardonic smile and a sip of whiskey-tea around his cigarette.
Kate Bishop	"Do I mind?" Kate really wanted to say yes. In truth, she didn't really like the things, but it wasn't like she hadn't been exposed to them often enough at this gala or the other, or some private function she'd been at. Besides, it was John's house. "Go ahead," she tells him, taking another wincing sip of her tea. "I think I'll.. maybe a few more sips. I really need this headache to go away." It was to the point Kate wasn't convinced a handful of tylenol and several litres of water were going to touch it. "Magical house, huh? You'll forgive me if I don't actually believe that. I mean, magic? A magical house?" She shakes her head. It wasn't so much she believed these things didn't exist (like magic), but it was more like they were things that other people encountered. Kate's life was populated by mildly powered people and street thugs. Not magicians. "I'm sort of doing the whole caped crusader at night, galas between gigs thing right now. Maybe that's the problem, not focusing. Or maybe it's.. and what do you mean you're responsible for people dying?" There's a small brow furrow at that. Kate, herself, wasn't violent per se. She might have an extensive aresenal of tricks and things to take down criminals, but it was never about violence if she could help it, and killing someone was way outside her moral code. So far outside it she made Matt Murdock look like he wavered on the issue. When JOhn has settled, Kate leans into him. It seems about right for the situation. "You know something? You'd be one of the few people who doesn't care about my pocketbook or lack thereof." She could probably count those people on the fingers of one hand. Two if she were being generous with her definition of the thing.
Constantine	John can pick up on Kate's reluctance and when he lights his cigarette with his finger he utters a few more words in some strange language and the cigarette and the smoke vanishes from Kate's perceptions, though it's clear by the curve of his lips he didn't vanish the thing from existance. John chuckles at his skeptcism. "Really don't remember how you got here, do ya?" he asks. "There was a magic door in the middle of the club, was really pulling out all the stops," that much was a lie, it was a property of him being owner of the house rather than anything out of his own bag of tricks. "But it's really a magical house. Well, tha's putting it simply the house isn't really a house, it's a nexus, a place where dimensions meet, an' all that power floating around has given it a bit of a mind of its own." He chuckles then, hearing how it all sounds. "Not believing a word of it are you?" he asks with a grin. "It's true, though, the bloody house goes on and on forever as far as I know, with doors opening to well...everywhere. I'll give you a tour if you want later, but don't go wandering on your own," he says before adding with a grin. "And no, that's not just me trying to keep you in my bed." "Though might be able to help with your headache some if you trust me," he says. As to Kate's issues. "Maybe it's not focus but what's it, sythesis, maybe you're having problems because you see what you're doing as separate things, maybe you need to bring it all together somehow. I mean, bloody hell I wear enough different hats, warlock, con man, Watcher, Master of the Mystic Arts, but they all fit because I'm me throughout. They're what I want to do." A face. "Well maybe not Watcher, that one is just killing my dangerous reputation, but it was a favour for an old mate." He take a long drag from his cigarette and lets the smoke out. All of it hidden from Kate's sight and smell by John's spell. "I mean what it sounds like, I've been responsible for people's death, sometimes it's because I wasn't able to save them, sometimes because I didn't try, other times, other times I made it happen. Some o' that lot deserved it, some didn't., but there was not a damn thing I could do about it." There is a small look of surprises as he leans against him and after a moment of thought he puts his arm around her. Not that John Constantine reprobate warlock would admit it, it felt nice to be close to someone, even if it wasn't in the groaning and sweating way. "Well, you don't seem to be one of the people who care about my magic mansion, so we're even," he says pushing off the compliment with a joke.
Kate Bishop	It's a bit disconcerting to *know* he's smoking but not be able to see or sense it in any way but for the pauses to drag on the thing. "Not really buying any of it, no," she tells him. "Sounds like a lot of mumbo jumbo. But hey, if I told my socialite friends" such a loose use of the word "what I do, they'd think I was making it all up, too. So I guess there's that." "I don't follow what you mean about them being two separate things. I mean, I get that part, but not the other. How would I even try to make them one thing? I put on an outfit and shoot at people from rooftops in one life, and wear expensive dresses and make people hand over large cheques while smiling at them and making them feel better about themselves. It all feeels a bit hypocritical. Like I'm prostituting myself for that money. Only without it.." Nope. She's not following how to marry her two worlds. She's not even sure which of the two she truly belonged in. Which might have been JJ's point all along. As he tells her about the deaths, she frowns over her teacup, taking small swallows. "I really should.. I feel like I should be more upset by hearing that than I am. You don't feel like the type?" Whatever that means. "And Watcher, huh? Is that some sort of mystical position to go along with those cards you hand out. Or something you made up to sound good."
Constantine	"Well got to say a magical nexus of dimensions is probably a little harder to swallow than someone dressing up and fighting crime," John reasons idly taking another one of those drags and leaning back against the headboard. "An' I'd take you on a tour and prove all this to you, but we'd have to find you some pants." Him too at this point. "But this is comfy," he admits of their little cuddle session. "Do one to serve the other, you hear one of your trust fund prats bragging up some crooked dealing, pull on the tights and expose him. You got a quarrel with some gang dealing drugs on a corner, throw some socialite money at the problem, I dunno, gentrify the place, or get some help down in their manor for their customers, mess with them that way. Do what you do, but come at it from both sides." "Wish I were the type," John admits taking a long final drag of the cigarette, it had done it's work calming the morning jangles of his hangover and coming down off he pills he'd taken with the booze. "That sort don't feel anything afterwards and bet they don't see what they did in their dreams either." There's a frown there, but short lived as she brings up the Watcher business, "Yeah, something like that, they do a lot of things, mostly watch things," he says with a faint smirk at the unhelpfulness of that explanation. "In my case I watch over a group of do-gooders trying to fight the good fight against mionsters and such. But let me guess, don't believe in monsters either?"
Kate Bishop	"You? Watch over a bunch of do gooders. Riiiiight." Kate practicaly snerks at him. "Monsters? Not sure. You mean like boogeymen and that sort of thing, right? I always thought those things were allegories and metaphors for what we are inside. The misery man does to man." She shrugs at him. "And I have to say, after months of sitting outside Motel Sixes watching married couples pretending to have affairs with one another while paying us to stake them out catching them at it, I'm not sure I'm not wrong, either. I'm betting you're going to say they're real, yada yada. Some day remind me to invite you to one of my father's parties and you'll see what I mean. It's like reading a who's who of fantastical literature. Dorian Gray has nothing on some of them." He does have an interesting idea, though. "So, you're saying play both sides as the same person?" It's a truly bizarre tactic, and one she hadn't thought of. She'd been careful - oh so careful - to keep her two worlds apart up to this point. "That might work. Sort of an eff you to the whole lot of them. Like I see you. I see you all for what you really are." She grins. "Back to monsters, right?" And much fun as the cuddle is... "We might have to find me pants sooner than later, or Lucky is going to eat my pillow. Or my shoes. And frankly I can't afford to replace either unless I get my dad's card back from that club." If he hadn't already cut it off. She figured that window was small - unless she made gestures that said she was being the dutifully deb daughter thing. Club Lux might not exactly be on her father's defining list for 'dutifully deb'.
Constantine	John laughs at the snerking thrown his way. "More or less what I said when the bloke pitched it to me, but then I did owe the wanker quite a bit, taught me a bit of magic back in the day, before he embraced the whole stuff librarian thing he's got going on now... anyhow, yeah, I get your reaction." "An' sure, the stories about monsters are metaphors about what man does to man, but it doesn't mean the subject of a metaphor isn't real, wasn't like Shakespeare was making up a summers day when he was comparing some bird to one," he says. "So, man does misery to man, but so do monsters, man's got a tough break." There is a low chuckle, at the description of society. "Trust me luv, I believe you there, was in a bloody punk band for a bit, know all about how the rich are, wrote songs about it," he says lightly then nods at her assessement of his plan. "More or less what I mean ya, stick it to them on both sides." There is a snort and a grin from John. "Exactly," when she loops the whole thing back to monsters. Then when Kate starts making her excuses and eying the door, John nods, "Sure we'll find you some kit," he says turning to face her then, asking, "But can I kiss you first?" as his eyes seek hers.
Kate Bishop	"See," Kate says on a laugh. "You in a punk band I can believe." She's still laughing softly as she mulls his commentary about monsters over when he asks to kiss her. "Huh? Kiss me?" He's given a perplexed look. Not that kissing is way out in left field in the scheme of things - hell, she'd kissed Matt and they were outright pretending to have a thing. She hadn't died. Neither had her toes curled. It had been another nail - the final nail as it happened - in her pining for Clint. "I guess? Not sure why, but can't hurt." Her tea-not-tea is set aside. There had already been the whole accidental soaking everyone and everything, they didn't need to repeat the process. "So. How do you want to do this?" Trust Kate to be matter of fact about it.
Constantine	"Glad there's something you believe about me," John grins. Then the perplexed look isn't a good sign, and 'I guess', is hardly a ringing endorsement either, but John soldiers on. He sets aside his tea, then turns so he's on his knees in front of Kate on the bed. With another woman, and in a more cheekier mood, John might have made a play to say, he meant a different sort of kiss in a different sort of place but he figured that sort of thing that'd get him a broken nose. There's a smile at that though though, the broken nose, not the kiss, even as he answers her question by doing, leaning in, one hand on her knee, the other caressing her face, he leans in to kiss her. Softly at first, tasting of not-tea, and his morning cigarettes then as the hand at her cheek glides to rest at the back of her neck, he opens his lips offering to deepen the kiss.
Kate Bishop	The perplexed look drifts into bemusement as John situates himself for the kiss. She half expects a sassy, saucy answer from him on how we do this. She's not sure what she pictured him saying, but something guaranteed to get a rise out of her, or the like, and then either laugh or surprise capture her lips.. Only he's so very serious about the whole thing, which has her wondering herself. And when she's fully convinced herself maybe he's serious about this thing in a hey maybe I like you way, there's that smile on his lips telling her it's still that whole devil may care thing.. right? Right? He tastes of whiskey and cigarettes. It's not unpleasant, but it's unexpected - even if she knew he'd been both drinking and smoking right beforehand. The kiss isn't clinical, not the way the one with Matt was. There she'd sat analyzing the fact taht this was how Clint felt about her: nada. And it was never a good sign to be deciding this is why your major crush didn't see you as a girl while kissing another man. Not this kiss. Kate was acutely aware she was being kissed, and by who. What she couldn't decide was how she felt about it. When he offers to deepen the thing there isn't resistance, her own curiousity meeting and welcoming the thing. And because she has the luxury, and it isn't unpleasant, Kate lets the kiss linger, exploring the thing.
Constantine	John has no bloody clue what he's doing. Not about the kiss, he's old hat at kissing and more than a few women have described him as infuriatingly good at it. He suspect the infuriating part is that he's such an ass all the rest of the time. This time he's not trying to be ass, but what is he trying to do? Well, he knew where he wanted things to lead, but beyond that, when it came to why, he was coming up blank. He liked her obviously, which was bad news, but where the hell was he- He cut himself short, /Overthinking mate/ he tells himself as the kiss deepens, and he lets himself ease into it, wrapping Kate up in his arms pulling him towards her as their mouths explore one another. He lets it linger too, until finally, slowly, he comes up for air, dragging his teeth along Kate's bottom lip as he reluctantly pulls away, still holding her close. "Good?" he asks her quietly, his tone is an odd mix of sincerity and mischief.
Kate Bishop	It might have been those teeth on her bottom lip that did it to be honest, a little toe curling shiver running through her that has her just a tiny bit wide eyed when the kiss breaks, because she has no clue where any of that came from. Sure, she's been kissed before. She's even liked it. She wasn't a prude, despite what some might think. She just wasn't sure what the heck she and John were doing with that kiss and if she didn't imagine herself caring for the man, why wasn't she finding this blase or unpleasant? As it was, it had felt good. Like the arm across her shoulders. Or leaning into him while they talked. Just casually comfortable. Other than those teeth. Which, again, she had no explaination for. "Uh.. good?" Kate has to clear her throat and ponder how to answer that. "I.. Can I ask you? Why'd we do that?" Besides the obvious. Nodding, "It was pretty good, yeah. You kind of surprised me there. I figured it would just be another sign from the universe to enter a convent." Matt would have got that joke. Kate isn't sure if she'll end up laughing by herself by saying it to John.
Constantine	John for his part had pushed most of the doubts through the latter part of the kiss and had just enjoyed it, which he did, very much. That much shows at the sort of mischivious sparkle in his eye as he looks down at her, his golden brows raising above them in response to her question. "Sign to enter a convent?" John asks, without his eyes losing that sparkle. "Missing something there, aren't I?" it had the sounds of a private joke. "Though guess I should be glad the kiss didn't inspire you to take holy vows," he leans in to steal another kiss from her lips, brief but heated, "Was hoping to inspire something more wicked than that. As to why, because it seemed like the thing to do. I like you, and I was hoping it'd convince you to stay damn your shoes and your cushions."
Kate Bishop	Kate groans at the stolen kiss. "You have to stop that," she complains. "People don't just do this. And I know I started it last night, but I was upset, and then drunk.. And this is a horrible bad idea for both of us." Even if Stubborn Kate was in the cheering section going: His sheets are nicer than ours! "I.. I gotta think about this." Because John wasn't a date em kind of guy - he'd told her so himself, and Kate wasn't sure if she was a friends with benefits kinda girl, even if it would solve some problems.. ~Oh god, Kate, stop thinking that way or you are going to convince yourself.. And you shut up~ (Because Stubborn Kate had things to say Normal Kate did not want to hear). She gives John a helpless little look. "You have no idea how hard you are making this for me. Cause I gotta say that kiss was a really good argument. I just don't know if it's smart for us. For me." And there you go Katie, talking yourself out of a fun time. A fun time that could lead to a good time. And that.. THAT is exactly what JJ was talking about.
Constantine	There is a wry twist of John's lips. "Sure they do, luv, all the time, and for lots of reasons, but mostly because the world's a bloody lonely place and they'd be daft if they didn't grab a little joy if it was there for the taking." That said, John isn't kissing her more, he's giving her that much space, even if he hasn't let her out of the circle of his arms. He gives a nod about thinking about it. Though her comment about how hard he was making this for her, gets a smirk and a juvenile guffaw. "No comment," he remarks. "And thanks it was a bloody good kiss," he says, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Probably not," he says about it being smart. "Though it'll be fun, I know I could use some, and maybe so could you? What do you say, luv? Want to chance it?"
Kate Bishop	It takes Kate a second before she gets it, leaving her shaking her head and laughing softly. "Oh, that's sooo bad. I should turn you down on the basis of that alone." It's all a serious matter, though, even if they aren't serious about one another, and the story he's trying to sell her is one of fun. "It was a good kiss," she admits. Maybe not mind blowing, but the potential was there. "I bet you say that to all the girls. My boss would kick my butt... no, she'd stand outside the door and not let me leave until we did - don't laugh. You think I'm joking. I'm not. You'd have to know her to understand." She reaches up and loops her arms about his shoulders and neck and asks, "Why me. You could go out your front door and find another girl without a problem. I know you, John Constantine. This is what you do. And it would be fun. And I'm sure I could probably use it. But why me? Other than the convenience factor of me sitting here." She wasn't looking for an undying declaration of love. Kate wasn't even sure she was looking for a declaration of like. Kate just wasn't sure, given all the things that others had wanted her for, and that John had already proven weren't on his radar, he was doing this.
Constantine	"Oi, you set it up for me, should blame yourself," John teases Kate when she complains about his inuendo. "An' besides, didn't say anything, you came up with my meaning all on your own." But then it was /his/ meaning. "Sounds like a good boss, as bosses go," John remarks., punk rocker and badass warlock, John didn't do bosses. "We should give her a call." There is a smile about his line, "Maybe," he says of having used it before, "But it don't make it a lie though. The world is a bloody lonely place, trust me on that one." He knew better than most, he could see the dark that floated around out of the sight of most, the horrors and the nightmares, and all of it taught him to grab what he could when he could, because you never know when it's your turn. "Well you're selling yourself short for one, you're not just here, but you've got no knickers on," John jokes, with a wicked grin, before his face takes on more serious expression. "Mostly because you're a pain in my ass," he says. "But I like you anyhow. You're fun, even without sweaty bits," he says, looking down at her.
Kate Bishop	"And just how am I a pain in your ass," Kate says, letting a little bit of rebel through. "I think I've been perfectly nice to you, thank-you very much. And trust me, we do not want to call my boss, because after she calls us out for bugging her, she's going to ask all the nosy questions either before or after we do it, and then corner me when I get back to the office." Kate could already picture it in her head - especially the bit about how smug JJ would be. "I might not have knickers on now, but I know where to get a pair easily enough." Saucily, before another of those sighs. "Aren't you worried I'm just going to be plain and boring? Let's face it, I'm not your type. Not in love, or dating, or bed. You sure this isn't just some belt notching thing? Can't let the girl get away when I might be able to seduce her?"
Constantine	John just gives Kate a long steady amused look in reply to her question about how she has been a pain in his ass. He doesn't say more. Though, he does remark about Kate's boss. "Not sounding like a reason not to call." "How do you know what my type is? And like I said, don't do love or dating, so, if you're expecting more, then, you might be right." John says gently enough. "You need to be clear on that." Though that last remark, causes John's brow to furrow and he sighs, as he lets his arms go slack around her. "If it was then the belt will have go unnotched. I'll find you those pants," he says as he shifts to the edge of stand up.
Kate Bishop	When John stands, Kate leans back against the headboard, closing her eyes, muttering under her breath, "This Katie? This is why we can't take you anywhere. Death knell. The black plague of relationships." Because WOW she was bad at this. Like the poster child for what not to do. Though the whole thing did get a slight, bitter chuckle out of her. "A big brother. Fake boyfriend. And now this." Three strikes and you're out. Though to be fair she knew she'd gone a step too far with that last one. She just didn't see what her appeal was. She /wasn't/ his type (even if two seconds ago she'd made strike three with 'man who will sleep with anyone'. Conflicting stories, much, Katie?). "I'm sorry," Kate finally manages, opening her eyes again. "I think I just proved my point about me. Maybe I should have asked if you had a coffee card. You know, ten visits and the eleventh is free? Instead, terminal foot in mouth. Really sorry about that. Maybe I'm only good at pretending things. Maybe that's the whole problem." Inwardly telling herself to shut the fuck up now before she said even more damaging things. "I can wear my dress home. I'll even let you brag about my walk of shame if you want. Figure I owe you it."
Constantine	Kate certainly did have a talent for putting her foot in her mouth. John didn't comment on the self-talk even if he agreed with some of it, finding Kate's clothing, which while dry still smelled of champagne. He gave them a sniff. "I can give you somethings of mine if you don't want to smell like one of those fancy parties," he says turning back to her for the first time since he left the bed. "Wouldn't have gone with the coffee card thing either, if you want some feedback for the next bloke," John says before frowning at the walk of shame comment. He put the dress down and got a cigarette out of his side table and lit it with a gout of flame from his finger, he reeled back at how bright and hot it was, but still took a drag from his cigarette with no spell to hide it. "Didn't figure you'd take me at my word when I said I was a right bastard," he remarks letting the smoke out through his nose. "I don't do this for notches or to brag to some wankers at the pub, I can lie well enough if I wanted that," he says in a tone that made it clear he didn't care about any of it. "Just wanted some fun and a little connection. If I wanted the other, would have done it when you were drunk and begging me to magic your clothes off, wouldn't I?" "Anyhow, want what you came in or should I dig something else up?"
Kate Bishop	"Just give me my dress," Kate says flatly, holding out her hand. "I'm going to burn the damn thing anyway, so who cares. And maybe I want to brag about the walk of shame. Maybe I want some stupid little.. oh shut up Kate. Just shut up." She sits there on the bed, because without something to put on, she can otherwise walk about pantsless, or she can miserably take her punishment for being herself when all indications would otherwise say she should have gone with the moment like she'd been trying to work the nerve up to. "Not my best work," Kate admits about the coffee card. "Though you might have thought it funny. You know, frequent flier miles. Though I guess you'd need some other bonus incentive than a free visit. You missed out on the one I was working my way up to. You'd have liked that one." "I'm not good at this. There's a reason.. Look, I said I was sorry. I know you could have just done it last night if that's all you wanted. You're not a complete jerk." Asshole, her brain corrected, but saying those things aloud was still harder than you'd think that a grown woman should have trouble with. "Just guys like you don't like girls like me. Not unless it's that, and you.. I guess I got scared." The dress dropped on the end of the bed finally gets her to move, crawling over to get it, dragging his tee over her head and trying to shimmy into the dress without actually standing up, with little to no success.
Constantine	John takes a drag from his smoke. "Knock yourself out if you wanna brag, I won't argue, but that's not what you said," John points out. "An' actually put that way it's not bad," he says of the coffee card thing but when she hints at another line, he takes the bait. "Well, what was it?" he asks. The rest has him shaking his head, "And vicious," John adds to the end of scared. "I don't get it, I'm a guy like you and I told you why I liked you, what more did you need? A baloon bokay and a bloody violinist?" John shamelessly watches as the shirt is tossed of and the dress is pulled on, or tried to be pulled on anyhow. When it becomes a mess he stubs out his cigarette and makes his way over kneeling on the bed again, "You're getting yourself in a tangle, luv, twist it this way," he says guiding the dress towards him, "Or you'll just end up in a knot on the floor." He makes a face, "Anyhow, all of this? Water under the bridge, maybe you weren't ready. Either way, no hard feelings Jus' going to need a couple cold showers and some whiskey."
Kate Bishop	"Oh shut up," Kate snaps, pulling out of his way as he tries to help. "If I want to get tangled up in my dress I damn well will get tangled up in my own dress." Only it's going nowhere other than stuck, one arm tugging uselessly at the slit slide, while desperately trying to get the front of the dress to untwist from underneath her armpit, and failing at both. Stubbornly, she sits there and glares at him, *daring* him to offer to help her put it on again. "I am not vicious. I'm nice. And here I was going to say I wouldn't brag about it even if people think you sleep around like that because it wasn't fair to you." She'd had some convoluted logic in her head as to why, but being angry at him had chased that away. Then, and quite inappropriately, in the middle of being angry at him, an absurd thought crosses her mind: the answer to the coffee card. Kate snickers to herself for a moment, first, before sharing. "I just thought of it. Sixth visit you get clean sheets." Suddenly realizing, then, that he'd asked about her other line - the one she'd held back. "Oh. That? Just if you'd given me your boxers, then I'd have had panties. Only, you know, you'd have been out of yours. Kinda like seducing you while making it harder at the same time and oh my god I'm doing it again. Why can I not shut up?"
Constantine	John bristles as she defends getting tangled in her own dress of all things. "Had to be bloody daft to think..." he mutters to himself pulling his hands back and moving back to the edge of the bed. Though he has to admit the lines were funny and guffaws inspite of himself. "Hey, my sheets are clean!" he protests glancing back at her. "An' no stealing my gags, with all that making it harder business," he says knowing that's not what she meant, amusement showing in his eyes even as he tries his best to frown. "Anyhow, sure you don't want help with your dress?" he asks her.
Kate Bishop	"Daft to think what? That I might need help?" Kate is still upset, but she's also aware that the person she's upset at isn't him, it's herself. "Of course I need help. I'm stuck. I'm embarrassed and my feelings are hurt and I just want to go home before I ruin anything else and I can't even get my own stupid dress on." He gets a pouted, sullen look. "Do you have any idea how mortifying that is? I can't even flounce out of here in a huff." Though her lips do twitch a little at his protests about the bedsheets. "Now, see, if you kept some extra new packs in your bedside table, you could stamp the card and then hand them a flatsheet to take home." Which has her giggling again, only to giggle harder when she realizes what she'd accidentally said (and how she had, indeed, used his very own joke against him). "Hey, sounded good when you said it. Can't blame a girl for stealing what works." Kate makes a helpless little gesture, "Please? I need help with my dress. I'm stuck."
Constantine	"Nevermind," John grouches in response to the question. John considers the rest of her words, snorting, "Flounce?" before nodding. "Probably pretty mortifying," he says standing up from the edge of the bed to consider her situation. The forced frown dissinetegrates as Kate starts to giggle, he shakes his head. "Just my luck, I'd take home a bloody loon," he says without any malice. "An' I'm not handing out souvenirs, this isn't Disney land," he says with a faint grin. "Though I like your faith in my ability to impress. An' it was good material," he agrees for that last bit. Then with a bit of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he brings his hands together, "Remember, you asked me for help," he says before he incants "Indumentis dissipare," spreading his hands again. The dress pours off of Kate like sand and reconstitutes under her on the bed. "Better?" he asks leaning against the bed post. "Got a pair of boxers you can borrow if you've a need," he says turning her line around on her. "You know if you're wanting to flounce."
Kate Bishop	"Nevermind? You brought it up." Considering that if he was muttering that, she'd missed the mark about what he'd thought. "And I'm not a loon. Just what are you supposed to do at a time like this? Being angry is just sucky. Besides, I'm not angry at you. I can't just walk out the front door naked. And I thought it was funny. You said your sheets were clean. I was thinking about that and how they give you a free cup of coffee.. and nevermind. I'm not even sure why I'm trying to explain this to you." When he says 'remember, you asked for help', Kate nods, expecting he's going to pull the thing over her head, or barring that, tug it to where it belongs. What she gets is a whole other matter that leaves her gasping as her dress is just *gone* one moment and then reconvenes into itself on the end of the bed. "How? Bwuh.." She's startled enough she doesn't even think (at first) to cover up. Until she does, grabbing at the nearest pillow and holding it to her chest protectively. "I'm not sure I can flounce out of here in boxers," Kate grumbles. Only it is kind of funny. He is being a bit of a right royal bastard teasing her that way. "I'd at least need a button up shirt, and maybe a good pair of boots. Barefoot would work, too, though it is January." Shaking her head, she holds out her hand. "Gimme the boxers. I swear, you're horrible. But I guess I earned this. I am sorry, by the way. You know, for being stupid. I don't pick up guys. Generally I spend my time figuring out how to get away from them. I guess some of that rubbed off at the wrong time." He gets a wry pursing of lips and a helpless shrug of shoulders. "You really are a lot better than you give yourself credit for." Which, she told herself, probably meant she wasn't nearly as good or as nice as she believed about herself. Especially if this little interaction was anything to go by.
Constantine	John shrugs off the remarks about his grumping, he really didn't care. As for the remarks about being a loon. "Hey, I like loons as it happens, and no clue either why you're trying to explain it, but it's a little bit adorable," he remarks. As for the other, well, John knew what was coming even if Kate didn't in those stunned seconds before she grabs the pillow he lets himself have a look, and with no fingers over his eyes either. Her question about how, is met with a smile, "Magic, luv. Google it." Though he /was/ a right royal bastard for puliing that though, even if he couldn't conjur up any guilt about it. There is a nod for the rest. "Apology accepted, and apologies in turn for the whole vanishing clothes business, but I thought it was funny," and still did if he was being honest and that showed on his face, even before the grin spreads across his lips and he remarks. "Making it harder, and rubbing off, I'd say you got a one track mind there for someone who doesn't pick up guys. Sure you want to get away?" he asks her, needling. "I'll take your word for it," John says of being better than he gave himself credit for, he damn well didn't see it, but there was a faint smile, at the sentiment. "An' you're alright too, by the by. Plenty of reasons to want to take you to bed beside a notch on the ol' belt."
Kate Bishop	His peeking, sans fingers and hands over his eyes, is very much noticed, but it's not like Kate is terribly in a position to scold about the matter when push comes to shove. She'd been part of this whole fiasco as much as he was - and she'd peeked at him. Frankly, at this point she wasn't sure why she was covering up anything. If he'd intended to jump her, he'd have done so already. And given her earlier actions, Kate was pretty sure he was done with her in that department anyway. Which is how she ends up rolling her eyes and swatting out at him with the pillow. "Ha ha ha. No, I do not have a one track mind." Neatly not answering the other as she tucks the pillow back up against her chest, leaning her elbows on it. "At risk of hearing things I likely won't like, and knowing you're not the type to take up with someone like me, just what sorts of reasons? You don't do parks and late night walks and hand holding. Honestly, if you're not into rooftops and shooting at criminals, I'm not sure I've got a whole lot more to offer. You've seen the mess I just made of a bonafide offer. I don't exactly make a great case for wanting to be with me." Though she does allow, "I think I'm funny. Quirky funny. But that's not really a recommendation. And I wasn't lying when I said most guys see me as a notch. I guess I'm a little prickly about that, too." Her head cants to one side. "Funny thing is, I didn't think you'd be prickly about it. I guess I took you at your word about a lot of the things, but some of that is just a cover, isn't it? This whole story you can tell so you can laugh things off if you need to." Because he had truly looked hurt that she'd thought he looked at her like a notch in his belt, even if he covered it up quickly.
Constantine	John grabs the pillow when it's swatted at him, holding it a second before letting it go so she can pull it back to cover herself. "Well given you were just giving me another peek I beg to differ," he says. "s'alright got a one track mind myself." He takes a seat on the bed, pulling his legs up to sit crosslegged facing her, "Christ you're dead set on talking yourself out of a good thing, aren't you?" he says with a roll of his eyes and a faint chuckle. "Keep in mind I usually don't do this sort of thing, but, if you want a list, then, you're right, you're funny, you're good looking, and you give a damn. Now that last is no way to go livin' life if you ask me, but who am I to judge?" He glances at the bedside table, wishing to hell he had a smoke, but at the moment he doesn't peel himself away from the bed to go get one. When she gets to the whole business about some of what he shows the world being a cover, he makes a face, "Can't give away the secrets, luv," he says, meaning she wasn't wrong. He had been hurt by the accusations. John didn't have many lines he didn't cross but she'd managed to hit on a couple of them. More than that he actually liked her, which was more than he could say for most of his bedmates. Figiting as he would if he had a cigarette in hand, he says, "Liked when you leaned against me there for a bit," he says. "Was nice." Which as much as an admission as he could muster. In truth it had been the first real kind touch he'd felt in some time. Not that he'd cop to it in a million years. That's why it had hurt, to have a moment where he felt connected to someone then have her turn around assume he was some bastard just after her for a quick shag and a tale to tell at the pub after.
Kate Bishop	The fidgit and discomfort isn't missed, Kate leaning over and opening up the bedside table and pulling out his cigarettes, handing them over to him. "I really shouldn't be encouraging you, but go on. It's better than watching you look all uncomfortble." To which she actually smiles at him. "And what do you mean dead set on talking myself out of a good time?" Because she was pretty sure that was taken off the table already, and frankly, while it might be a bit self-indulgent, she had been curious what he'd say if she asked about why she wasn't a bad catch that way.
Constantine	John's brows raise is surprise when the cigarettes are retreaved and offered. He takes one out of the pack and lights it, "Cheers," he says. "You and my apprentice should meet, you can gang up on me on the smoking business," he says before taking a soothing drag from his smoke to put him back on an even keel. "Well, a few minutes ago, you wouldn't have been wrong about it being off the table, but with those cheesy lines, and getting me my smokes, I'd say we might have a chance to salvage the night, morning, whatever it is now." That wasn't the whole of his reasons but it was as much as he could offer and still laugh things off if she saw it differently. "That is if you don't have your heart set on some flouncing?" he offers with a faint smile around his smoke.
Kate Bishop	There's a grin from kate and a shrug. "I was afraid you were going to hurt someone if I didn't hand them over. And you have an apprentice, huh? How's that working for you." Laughing to herself, as that was really officially her role with regards to JJ: Apprentice, learning the P.I. trade. "And those lines were not cheesy," she protests, ruining the effect by having to ask, "Which lines?" Kate contemplates him quietly fro where she sits, pillow back in lap protectively, elbows leaned upon it. "I don't flounce well. I'm more an acidic comeback and smart reply kind of girl. And I don't know. I never really just set out to decide to sleep with a guy before. Not like this." Though when she sat with the thought calmly, after everything else of this morning (was it even still morning?) she had to admit, the prospect wasn't as terrifying as it had been when she'd put her foot in her mouth. "I want to see your frequent flier miles plan first. I mean, you taking those sheets of the table? That could be a game changer. My sheets are these horrible scratchy things and I have to admit, I was looking forward to this deal."
Constantine	"Might have," John says wryly as he continues to puff away contentedly. "Tend to get nervous without 'em." Which is saying something given the man faces down monsters from beyond for a living. "s'alright, scares the hell out of me lot of the time, girl's got power, and lots of it, bloody big responsibility but someone's got to show 'em the ropes." "The thing about the boxers and the sheets," John supplies. "An' I've seen nachos with less cheese." John nods, spreading his arms for her inspection, he still had his open house coat clinging to his shoulders and still wearing those boxers. "Well, trust me, luv, this has been unique for me too," he says meaning more than just considering sleeping with a woman, but how all of it had gone from the jump. Usually it went much more smoothly. "But first time for everything, and you might just like it and start keeping sheets to give away yourself," he says with a smirk. For his part, it had been different, normally these things were quick and to the point and less like a comedy of errors, but it didn't frighten him, not more than his usual fears that he was dragging someone he liked into his world of pain and death. Though like those other times, he told himself the familiar lies, this time will be different, you can keep her out of all of that... He grins, and tosses his smoke to the ashtray by the bed, "Well, like the 'frequent' part of that, an' sure, if that's what it takes you can take all the sheets you like," he says. "Plus I owe you a pair of boxers."
Kate Bishop	"You so owe me a pair of boxers," Kate says. "And damn skippy I look cute in them too." Which was exceedingly saucy for her. "Your apprentice scares you? That must be weird." Kate looks very serious as she ponders that, as John really isn't the sort she imagines afraid of much. "But I protest that whole nacho thing." Other than the fact that Clint had really informed a whole lot of her humour, and it really was cheesy. Like total fromage. More seriously, though, Kate nods. "I'm not really sure about the frequent fliers part, but I think the problem was I wanted to say yes and was afraid to. Not sure this is a resounding recommendation for you to be stupid enough to reconsider, but if that was an actual offer, maybe we could see if I can get further this time without messing things up?"
Constantine	"I bet," John says with a saucy look of his own. "You can model for me later." "Let's not worry about my apprentice just now," John says, things were going well for now and delving into his super-powerful apprentice might just kill the mood, so he's happy to chuckle, and say, "Protest all you want it's still true." Not that John was cheese free when it came to his humour, it just sounded cooler on account of his accent. Well, on this side of the pond anyhow. He nods, "Mostly joking about the frequent part of things, we'll take it as it goes, no expectations," he says getting serious along with her for the moment, his eyes seeking out hers. "An' I've done plenty of stupid things and this doesn't seem like one, so, yeah," he says. "Genuine offer."
Kate Bishop	"Oh, it's likely stupid," Kate replies. "Have you met me? Seriously." But hey, she's here now, and well, of the two of them, she's the one dressed for the particular party he's suggesting. "I really don't know what I'm doing here, John. This is the sort of thing other people do." She was calm about it, though. Not afraid like she'd been earlier. It felt right, even if it was just a diversion, or a moment stolen away from day-to-day Kate. "So not cheesy. You just don't appreciate good humour."
Constantine	"I've met you, an' that I haven't run screaming should tell you something," John offers wryly before guffawing at her remarks about her jokes being cheesy, "I'll appreciate it when I see it," he shoots back with a grin. "Still waiting on that." Despite that, he plays into one of her cheesy lines, in shifting around to shed his boxers, then toss them at her. "Well, c'mere then," he says as he settles back onto the bed. "I'll show you the way."