CONSTANTINE'S BACK ON THE BEAT

hal wasn't a heavy drinker by any means [ ... ] he was typically a social drinker, only having a drink to unwind when he was meeting up with someone for a good chat. and he did drink whiskey for the taste of it. a nice glass of neat honey whiskey, to give a tinge of a burn down the throat? that warmth that enveloped his body, the release of tension in his shoulders, it was all a nice little treat from the long bullshit weeks he endured.

he watched the blond walk off, giving an affirmative little hum to himself. he was ruggedly handsome, without even trying much, and he looked even better holding the drink he'd asked for.

❛ more of a classic rock guy, myself. ❜ hal teased, graciously taking the glass of whiskey from the other. ❛ you ought to pick something that is in your register. a drink and a show would be a great night. ❜

 " oh, here we go. classic rock, 'e says. yeah, i'd bet all's you listen to is the police. " he rolled his eyes and jabbed hal in the side with an elbow, but his quiet chuckle confirmed that it was nothing more than friendly teasing. while hal took a swig of his drink, john watched him ( and savoured the bob of his adam's apple when he swallowed, of course ) with a thoughtful hum.

" actually, though, let me guess -- house of the rising sun; dreams - by fleetwood mac, 'course -; born to run, since you seem like a springsteen sort of bloke; fortunate son, 'cuz the irony's lost on you; hotel california; sweet jane; and stairway to heaven, so you can hog the mic at karaoke for 8 whole fuckin' minutes. "

satisfied with his judgement of hal's music taste, john tipped his head back and downed half of his beer in one go, immediately followed by laughter so loud it edged into self-deprecating. " hah! don't let the accent fool you, luv, i'm no paul mccartney. you don't wanna hear me sing. "

regulus raises a hand, very carefully, and turns it in a loose-wristed gesture by his shoulder, "just some upper-class, trust fund prick with time to spare, looking for a laugh." which isn't entirely false — even if it's a very minor detail in the background of a very large and complicated picture. the better question is — who are you? self-righteous witch with a spellbook and a purpose? why, we're the same! only, you're angrier. and more poorly-dressed.

" well, he were alive when i done it, so it weren't even grave-robbing. he only died a couple'a minutes after. "

pause.

" i've also done grave-robbing, though, yeah. only sometimes. usually it's just desecration, y'know, digging up bones an' all that. " john's mood slowly improves ( nothing like chatting about digging up graves to lighten one's spirits! ), although he does roll his eyes at the assertion that any of this is just for a laugh.

" oh, you're a right nutter. don't you do any of the normal posh boy shit? y'know, hunting us common folk for sport out in devon or summat? " instinctively, john raises his own hand like a mirror image of the man across from him, although he doesn't cast anything ( yet ). maybe the only thing that stops him from hurling a ball of fire is tapping two fingers against the painting's ruined surface.

" what i do - " tap-tap-tap. " - is magic, same as you. well, much better'n you, but still. an' i've been looking for this sorry bastard too, y'know. i've gotta burn it to finish what i started here, alright? "

"if you're so determined to rid this world of everything thought to be 'ugly,' i wonder that you haven't already perished by way of self-immolation." tut-tut. regulus pulls in a longful sigh that, dear lord, almost sounds genuinely pitying, "but you don't strike me as a man of good taste." even if the painting's style is... archaic. demonic. and if regulus is honest — ugly. but he's not interested in it for its looks.

 like magic -- the more the stranger smiles, the more john's expression twitches into a frown. he's just the type of person to get under his skin, which, honestly, is something of an achievement.

" i'm not 'ere 'cuz it's ugly, you div. you've no bloody idea what you're messing with. " honestly, if the man took the stupid painting home and got yanked straight to hell, john really couldn't care less. but it'd be a right pain in the arse to track it down again to its next buyer before they suffered the same, and so on.

no matter is right, though; because john's lighter fails before the canvas even catches fire. not much of a shock, of course, it ran out of fluid constantly -- the real shock is the whiff of magic he catches on that perfectly-timed snap.

so that's how things were, then.

" nah. got it off a dead bloke. " which is why he drops it almost immediately ( he won't miss it ) to leave his palm open and empty, waiting to cast. " funny trick, that. who are you? "

Send one for your muse to…

★ - drag my muse by the arm ⁂ - grab my muse by the front of their shirt, possibly shoving them back ✱ - take my muse by the hips to carefully move them out of their way ➜ - smack my muse upside the head ⌧ - grip my muse by the back of the neck © - put a hand on my muse’s back to steer them somewhere ✂ - point sternly at a chair and tell my muse to sit down ✉ - push my muse back down when they try to get out of bed (perhaps involving illness, injury, or sleep deprivation) ☛ - press a finger to my muse’s lips to shut them up ♚ - put a hand on my muse’s knee while sitting next to them, to discourage them from standing up ♧ - slap my muse’s hand away from something they shouldn’t touch ♦ - grab my muse’s hair and yank ♤ - slam a door shut before my muse can leave the room ♞ - physically pick my muse up and carry them ♭ - grip my muse’s jaw to make them look yours in the eye ♨ - rub my muse down with a sponge/wet cloth  ☀ - pin my muse with their arms behind their back ☠ - slam my muse into a wall ☾ - wrestle/pin my muse to the ground

do you know how long it took me to find this piece?

pity. some people don't appreciate a good bit of dark magic. regulus, for his part, remains poised, statuesque, and doesn't allow his eyes to linger for too long on the scribbled chalk markings. oh, is that what you're trying to do? if regulus understands any of what he sees then he keeps it concealed beneath the haughty exterior of his tired expression.

 great, just what he needs -- some insufferable posh bloke giving him down the banks, all because he doesn't understand that john's trying to spare the poor bastard who bought the horrible thing. although...

" three h- are you fuckin' mad?! " john looks back and forth between the painting and its apparent buyer, still limply holding up his unlit lighter, in utter disbelief. " you've been 'ad off, mate, seriously. three hundred thousand quid for this ugly shite? hope you've kept your receipt. "

his thumb flicks against the zippo's ignition a good few times as it sputters, sparks, and finally lights.

" oi, i've nicked these off the clearance rack fair and square, alright? " of course john isn't offended -- if anything, an insult from a man like this may as well be a compliment. but it does encourage him, grinning with all of his bitter resentment towards the upper classes, to raise two fingers to flip the man off with one hand and finally hold the little flame right up to the canvas with the other. " sorry, mate. no trust fund 'ere. "

@he11blaze asked: “ you know, one of these days, you’re gonna have to let me be the mysterious one of the duo. ” [ from here ]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎CONSTANTINE HAD QUITE THE MOUTH. in more ways than one, m would say, but there was always some wit on the tip of his tongue. perhaps he was being a bit mysterious, but when magic was involved he wasn't keen on fucking around. john would agree.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“ door -- ” because there wasn't time, tugging the brit through with him. from a dimly lit bar, the strong winds of a cold night in gotham would be a shock to most people's systems.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎midnighter sighed, letting the cool air hit his lungs. “ you can be the mysterious one when the big bad bat tries to catch us, maybe he'll take you home with him if you impress him enough this time. we've got work to do in the meantime. ”

 yeah, john had said that to be a bit cheeky. maybe even flirt a bit, get m to go hands-on with him. and now he was suffering the consequences of being a little too good at that, as he was dragged through the bar with the heels of his scuffed-up loafers digging into the floors like a cat about to be given a bath.

" well, 'ang on now, i've only had a couple'a drinks. the night's only just started. " he did know better than to squirm too much, though -- he'd only wind up with a dislocated shoulder or something.

at least until the frigid nighttime air of gotham hit him, chilled him right to the core almost in an instant, at which point john twisted and turned and clawed his way back towards the door. " no, no, you can't make me bloody work, i won't do it. you are a right bastard prick, y'know that?! you think you can butter me up, tellin' me this and that about bats -- he don't like me any more'n you do! "

the brunet watched the blond man smell his glass of vodka, mocking him before knocking the drink back. ❛ don't get me wrong, i'm here to have a drink, or multiple. i'm just a snob and don't like the taste of vodka. ❜ he grabbed the now empty glass back from the other, rolling his eyes.

❛ i'll raise you a deal, blondie. get up there and get me a double-shot of honey whiskey, and i'll buy your next round. ❜ his brown eyes fixated on the other, and he looked back over his shoulder, eyeing the counter with a surprising lack of a line.

❛ looks like now's your best chance. ❜

  " ah, you're alright, mate. nobody drinks for the taste of it, do they? don't make you a snob. " it certainly wasn't the reason why john drank -- and a free round wasn't the reason he nodded along and spun around to face the bartender and order hal's whisky. or, at least, it wasn't the only reason, but it did rank somewhere between hal's shoulders and the tightness of his jeans.

that honey whisky ended up right back on hal's tab after all ( seeing as hal left him unattended with empty pockets & a gullible bartender ), along with john's own pint. he returned with a drink in each hand and a grin on his lips.

" blondie, eh? you must like me. i won't sing you heart of glass, though, sorry. bit out of my register. "

THE PREGAME

i promised myself i'd behave, and then i showed up here.

why does every bad decision start with music this loud?

don't babysit me, just refill my cup.

someone hid the water on purpose, i swear.

if this ends with pizza, it was worth it.

i'm already texting people i shouldn't.

this feels like the calm before something stupid.

i didn't dress like this to sit down.

we're definitely not remembering everything tomorrow.

hand me that bottle like you mean it.

who invited you, and why are you already this drunk?

if i take one more shot, it's your fault.

don't tell me to pace myself, tell me to hydrate later.

is this vodka, or did someone lie to me aggressively?

i have not eaten, and i regret nothing.

let's not even go out.. let's stay in and have our own party!

why is the music already this loud?

we're starting strong tonight, huh.

you're smiling like you're about to make bad choices.

i said one drink, and now i'm holding four.

if i die tonight, delete my texts.

who's house is this again?

i swear i was sober five minutes ago.

don't look at me like that unless you're pouring another shot.

this is either going to be legendary or embarrassing.

i already lost my dignity, so cheers.

ON THE DANCE FLOOR

you keep pulling me back every time i drift away.

if you pull me any closer, i'm not pretending to resist.

keep your hands there. i dare you.

you feel really good this close.

if the lights were on, this would be dangerous.

you move like you know exactly what you're doing.

you keep brushing against me on purpose, don't lie.

this song is doing us no favors.

if you keep staring, i'm going to do something about it.

you're making it hard to pretend we're just friends.

i can't tell if we're dancing or negotiating.

why are you looking at my mouth like that?

you always dance like you're trying to start trouble.

dance with me or move, you're blocking my view.

tell me this isn't flirting. i dare you.

you're way too confident for someone this close to me.

stop grinding on me like that if you're not serious.

i can feel your heartbeat through your chest.

your hands are saying things your mouth won't.

you move like you want to be noticed.

if i turn around, you better not stop.

you're sweating, and somehow it's hot.

don't pretend you didn't come over here for me.

DRUNK CONFESSIONS AND MESSY, JEALOUS ENERGY

i don't usually trust people this fast.

you didn't deny it, that's interesting.

i don't like watching you smile at them.

you know exactly what you're doing to me.

i tried not to care, and failed.

don't test how patient i am tonight.

you came back, so don't play dumb.

i saw the way they touched you.

you don't get this reaction from everyone.

i hate how much i notice.

you belong right here, not over there.

you feel familiar in a way that scares me.

i don't hate this version of myself with you.

i was hoping you'd talk to me tonight.

you make me forget why i'm guarded.

i'm bad at this, so be patient.

i don't open up, and yet here i am.

you make the noise in my head quieter.

i didn't expect you to matter this much.

i'm saying too much, but i don't want to stop.

who was that you were dancing with?

you didn't look at them the way you look at me.

don't pretend you didn't notice me watching.

are you trying to make me jealous, or is it natural?

i don't like sharing your attention.

you disappeared, and i didn't like it.

you're mine tonight, right?

don't flirt with them in front of me.

i know i don't get to say that, but still.

you came back to me for a reason.

i've wanted to kiss you since the first drink.

i don't say this sober, but you make me nervous.

i think about you more than i should.

i'm not usually this honest, so don't make it weird.

i kind of want you to ruin my night.

you're my favorite bad idea.

i tell myself not to want you, and then i drink.

you're the reason i showed up tonight.

i don't trust myself around you when i'm drunk.

if i say something stupid, blame the alcohol.

i think you know exactly how hot you are.

i'd choose you over everyone in this room.

i'm way too drunk to lie to you.

i don't want to go home alone.

PURE FLIRTATIOUS/SUGGESTIVE/DIRTY TALK

you're testing me on purpose, admit it.

that look should come with a warning.

don't act shy now, it doesn't suit you.

if i lean in, it's mutual.

you're way too calm for someone stirring this much trouble.

tell me to stop, or don't.

you always push just enough.

i like how bold you get after a few drinks.

i want you focused on me.

you're all i can think about right now.

if i start something, i won't half-ass it.

you look like you want to be handled.

i don't need subtle from you tonight.

you're making promises without saying a word.

i'm losing patience, fair warning.

you're not being gentle with my self-control.

i want your attention, fully.

keep looking at me like that.

are you always this tempting, or am i just drunk?

you're looking at me like you want something.

if you keep leaning in, i'm kissing you.

don't tease me unless you plan to follow through.

you smell really good, and it's distracting.

i'm trying to behave, but you're not helping.

that smile should be illegal.

tell me what you're thinking. i know it's dirty.

you're playing innocent badly.

if we leave together, no one would be surprised.

you keep touching me like it's an accident.

i'm not stopping you.

say my name again like that.

you look even better up close.

i want you somewhere quieter.

i've been imagining this all night.

you're driving me insane.

i don't care who sees us.

you feel way too good for a public place.

keep your voice down, or don't..

i'm losing my self-control with every drink.

you're going to be the reason i make a scene.

touch me again and see what happens.

i want your mouth on me, now.

you're trouble, and i'm leaning in.

i'm done pretending i don't want you.

if you pull me away, i won't fight it.

i want to go somewhere we can be louder.

THE SMOKING-AREA SECTION

this feels like a secret we're keeping together..

you look good when you're plotting something.

i like this side of you, a little reckless.

don't pretend the tension isn't real.

you're leaning closer every sentence.

i could stay out here with you all night.

the air feels charged, doesn't it?

you always corner me when you want something.

this is getting harder to ignore.

say it. whatever you're thinking.

why is it always hotter out here?

you followed me outside on purpose.

this is where the real conversations happen.

you look dangerous under this light.

don't stand that close unless you mean it.

i like you better away from the crowd.

you always flirt harder when no one's watching.

you're making it hard to focus on anything else.

if i kiss you right now, would you stop me?

this night just got interesting.

you taste like alcohol and bad ideas.

stay out here with me a minute longer.

you're trouble in a very specific way.

i could drag you back inside, or somewhere else.

don't look at me like that unless you're ready.

THE END OF THE NIGHT

i don't think i'm sober enough to say goodbye.

you coming with me, or am i begging?

i don't want this night to end yet.

my place is closer than yours.

let's not think about tomorrow.

i'll regret this, but i'll regret not doing it more.

stay. please.

i don't want to overthink this.

you're already halfway convinced.

nah, you know we can't do this..

we can deal with consequences later.

this feels like a yes waiting to happen.

i don't want to say goodnight yet.

stay close, just like this.

i'll walk you, or you can come with me.

this night doesn't feel finished.

i want more time with you.

let's not make this complicated.

you're already halfway in my arms.

we can pretend this was planned.

i don't trust myself to sleep alone.

if you leave now, i'll be mad at you forever.

i like you like this. honest and reckless.

come home with me.

i don't need another drink. i need you.

this feels like the start of something messy.

THE MORNING AFTER

tell me we didn't imagine that.

my head hurts, but i'm smiling.

so.. last night happened, right?

i regret nothing except the tequila.

we should probably talk about that.

how'd you even get me home?

about last night..

my phone is judging me, but i'm not.

i woke up smiling and annoyed about it.

please tell me you're not ghosting me.

we need coffee and a conversation.

i'm embarrassed, but also curious.

are we talking about this?

hey, thanks for taking care of me last night.

did i leave my underwear at your place?

i keep replaying last night.

whatever happened last night should've never happened.

that wasn't nothing, right?

i hope you got home safe.