It's about power

Harry snorted and took another sip of his coffee. “Like I was gonna let any friend of mine sleep in her car when there’s a whole other bed in this apartment.” 

He still couldn’t bring himself to call it his apartment– mostly because, in a technical sense, it wasn’t his. Oh, don’t get him wrong, he was infinitely grateful that Molly was letting him stay here, but it still didn’t get rid of that subtle, ever-present sting of knowing he was still, in a technical sense, homeless.

.

She didn’t say anything about Harry’s use of ‘this’ rather than ‘my’ for the apartment. After all she knew better than some what it was like to have that Home but not really feeling. 

That startled a genuine laugh out of him. One that took a while to reign in, even as he continued to speak: “So … I take i’ you know ‘bou’is Ripper days then, eh? Bloody marvellous.”

When the laughter finally died down, his smirk stayed, despite a small twinge in his chest. “If no’ dir’y secrets, wha’ are you ‘ere for then, luv?”

Buffy waited out Constantine’s laughter, looking mostly unbothered. Though she does end up making another face at him. Why did she get the feeling that this happened around him a lot? “Ethan Rayne’s efforts have reared their ugly head over the years.”

Smirk still in place, he huffed a laugh. 

“So you came here, lookin’ for a man most sane people will warn you away from, because your stuffy Brit go’ a bi’ flustered when someone mentioned my name?”, the smirk widened. “Lookin’ for his dir’y past?”

“Slaying isn’t exactly full of sane people.” At least not information gathering wise. Of course her amused expression becomes far less so at the teasing question. 

Well …

John tilted his head and a slow, mischievous smirk creased his face. “Did’e now?”, he asked, just as slow, just as mischievous. “Lemme guess, your friend suggested askin’ me for’elp with somethin’? An’ dear ol’ Rupert was ‘avin’ none of it?”

That was not surprising, really. Most people preferred John as far away from their charges as this planet would allow (and most of those people would probably agree that even another planet might still be too close), but the glasses.

“‘e still does the glasses thing when ‘e gets real nervous, eh?”

“Not necessarily asking you for help--No offence but we have a bad ass witch so we don’t exactly need a Master of the Dark Arts--just talking about you in passing.”

Which had been when Giles became very, very interested in whatever it is he’d been working on to the point of ‘reading’ an old, dusty tome that had actually been upside down.

John made a face around the bud of his cigarette and would have probably stuck his tongue out if that hadn’t cost him the precious cancer stick.

“Ugh. Tweed.”

Then again, it had looked rather nice against that bookshelf in the library …

Ah, well, fond memories.

“So, Buffy Summers.”, he took a deep drag of the cigarette and continued speaking on the exhale. “Wha’ brings you to John Constantine?”

“Sufficiently less tweed. Tweed lite.”

Her expression of amusement slipped back onto her features at his question, a little mischief sparkling in her eyes.

“Someone mentioned your name in passing and Giles got extra distracted and stuttery. Then started to clean his glasses.” 

“Yeah, I heard…”, he mused, looking her over. She was, oddly, exactly what he had expected and … nothing like it at all. “Bout the multiple slayers.”, he corrected finally and shrugged. 

“Playin’ a’ decency, the old sod, eh?” 

Even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t have contaned the grin that followed, before it was interrupted by him placing a cigarette between his lips. “’ow is ‘e? ‘eard ‘e turned into a real stick in the mud.”

“Sure that you hear about,” she muttered under her breath with good nature.

He might have made an inappropriate comment about her name belonging to someone working a certain entertainment job, if it hadn’t …. nagged at him. Something about the name was very fucking familiar.

For a moment, he watched her, chewing thoughtfully on the filter of his cigarette.

Then…

“Bloody fuckin’ell. You’re Ripper’s girl. The Slayer.”

There we go. That’s more like it. 

“The one and only...Formerly one and only. There’s a lot more of us now. We unionized.” 

“Tha’s grand, luv. Lo’ssa people ‘ave ‘eard ‘bout me, but I ‘ave no fuckin’ idea who you are.”