1964-09-25 - Out On The Terrace
Summary: Wherein Lindon goes to bat for Constantine, more or less.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
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lamont lindon 

There has been the last of the gardening. And now they're on the back terrace. Lamont has Athena in his lap, and he's idly smoking one of those Turkish cigarettes he likes so much, harsher than anything American made. Sitting lazily at a table, a drink at his elbow, enjoying the rest.

There was hissing and fsking last night, but by bedtime, the bigger girls had pinned Puck down and groomed him into submission. He's now the little brother, toddling along after them. Athena purrs quietly. Inside, Pye and Puck are thundering about the parlor playing chase. Lindon stretches out his legs and sighs in contentment. Out of the blue, he asks, "Are you mad at John Constantine? He thinks you're mad at him."

"Not at him. Not directly. He means well. He's just got a kind of curse attached to him. I shouldn't be harsh, really," Lamont concedes, softly. "But….him showing up looking for you makes me uneasy. He's not a fool, per se. He's quite a competent magician, too. But….he tends to warp Fate around him in a way that so often ends up bad for those near him. I couldn't undo it."

"I think he's the reason I survived," Lindon says. "He talked about binding something like a book when we were in the hospital. I know that I was babbling and slowly starving myself of food and sleep because I couldn't stop until one night I just did. And I was like this. It's something of a leap, but it's a theory I'm willing to entertain." He glances sidelong at Lamont, and he takes his non-smoking hand. "I saw him at the tea shop the other day. I told him what I knew of the crime he's investigating, and I told him I'd pass it on if I learned anything else. He thinks I'm the keeper of the book. I don't think he suspects, and he's made it clear he doesn't want it. He just wants to know what happened to his lover."

Lovers. Oh, God. Lamont's expression says it all….and then sympathy bleeds in, as he laces his fingers with Lindon's. "I suppose we'll have to tell him the truth, soon. It sounds like something he would manage to do….."

"I don't know, I think we can still be vague and give him what he wants." Lindon clasps Lamont's hand dearly and looks at him, with kitten in lap, and he grins. The grin fades though into similar sympathy. "I'm going to give some thought to the events in and around that night. He says the wizard's wards were usually impeccable. I'll start there. It might help if you're there to ask the right questions. It might not hurt to talk to him and find out what those are, love."

"I will do," he acknowledges, softly. Lindon's ideas are always good ideas, if for varying values of 'good', right? His hand tightens around Lin, as if someome were suggesting parting them.

Lindon smiles softly and murmurs, "Thank you." Like talking to John would be a personal favor to him. "He respects you, and I think the idea you're angry or spiteful of him has hurt his feelings. That plus the emotional investment probably has him in a state, and you know I can't stand to see suffering."

That has him gazing at Lindon, gaze softening. "Thank you," he replies, after a little silence. "I will speak to him. I'm glad of you - you remind me how to be human, at times."

Lindon murmurs, "You travel dark places. Sometimes you just need a light. Plus, you're so protective. That's a good thing." He unlaces his fingers from around Lamont's so that he can stroke Athena's soft fur, causing her toes to flex and her purr to start up again. "What do you think of Puck?" he asks. "Isn't he cute?"

"ADorable," Lamont agrees, ruefully. "And a good joke. Strange is a trickster."

"He is," Lamont agrees. "But he's a trickster who brings me kittens." For which Lindon can allow a certain amount of trickery. "You two, though. Half the time I think your training sessions are just seeing who can one-up the other. It's amusing."

He nearly chokes on his cigarette at that, eyes bright. "It really….they do so often end up that way," he admits, a little shamefaced. "We can't seem to help ourselves."

Lindon shakes his head. "No, you cannot." He takes Lamont's hand again. "But that's all right. You boys have fun, and that's what matters, considering it does end up being educational. The way I figure, if he's playing back, he sees you has having enough potential and talent to be worthy playing with."

Lamont's smile is tender. "As usual, you see right to the heart. But that's what it is, I think. Much more fun than dry lessons, you know?" He knuckles out the cigarette in the glass ashtray. "I'm more honored than I say, generally, to study with him."

"It's a rare opportunity," Lindon says. "If I were magically inclined, I'd consider him the pinnacle of teachers. How many people get to say they received a kitten from the Sorcerer Supreme. One that will help you defend your most precious relic?" He laughs a little at that, unusual confidence in his position.

Of course he laughs at that. "It is," he concedes. "It really is. I should be more humble, and grateful. But I'm horrible at both, and I know it."

Lindon regards Lamont blandly for a moment. Yes, Lindon is aware of this. But his smile shows he's fond all the same. "I don't know, to me you have some rather warm moments. It's hard to judge a man with a kitten on his lap." Especially Athena, not that he plays favorites.

"I'm much better than I was," he says, simply. "You'd've hated me, had you known me in the t wenties."

"Lucky for me I was born in the thirties," Lindon says. He looks out over the yard they worked so hard on this past week, and he gives Lamont's hand a squeeze. "I love you," he says, "and I love this. Whoever you used to be, the man I'm in love with is the man you are now."

He actually looks away at that, silent, throat working. Oh ho ho, you made the Englishman tear up. Victory. When he can speak over the lump on his throat, he says, softly "I love you, too."

Lindon glances down at the kitten, giving Lamont a little visual space to collect himself. He pets her, and she kneads her paws and purrs, letting slip a near silent 'mew.' Which makes Lindon grin. "Silly kitten," he murmurs. "Such a sweetheart." Glancing back to Lamont, he murmurs, "I chose wisely. I believe that with all my heart."

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