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He comes when Constantine calls, it's true. Lamont shows up where he's asked to, in his usual gray suit and hat. Not exactly a snappy dresser, but he does have a good tailor….and a bag with him, something like the old-fashioned doctor's bag, black leather and brass hardware. Containing god knows what.
Constantine was holed up in not Aloys' studio space in Greenwitch Village, but actually occupied the entire building in Chinatown that was Aloys' proper workshop and flat above. John was a scavenger that rivaled hermit crabs in that regard. He was wearing pants, thank …someone but that seemed to be it. He answered the door in a rush with bare feet slapping on teh concrete floor trying to tend a new cut along his right forearm. Distracted the heavily warded and tattooed man waved the closest thing to family he had into the building.
At least the building was a sensible choice. It was warded to fall off radar of anyone happening to notice unless they were directly looking for the building. Fancy that. It was… as conjurers tended to live, a cluttered mess.
He is deliberately not wearing a snooty expression. Lamont's no great housekeeper on his own. He does have staff, if part-time. Constantine shirtless does get a wry looking-over. "Did I catch you at a bad time?" he asks, but the teasing is gentle, and he steps past John, giving the place a thorough looking-over.
Constantine murmured absently paying more mind to cleaning himself up than Lamont's sensibilities. "Don't we both wish. Working on learning a spell. come in if you see a cat, don't touch it. That might have been Cassidy. I'm not entirely certain." It stood to reason it could be. The relics in the place and arbitrary trinkets might DO anything and the vampire's curiosity was insatiable. So either Cass was out and the cat wandered in, or Cassidy was stuck as a cat for the time and John was disinclines to find out. Either Cass was fine, or he would be and have learned a valuable lesson in 'stop shaking the doo-dads'. "Tea's on. Got whiskey. No scones." There was a kettle, there were cups and thi was more help one's self than having a live-in Lindon.
"Sounds delightful," Lamont's voice is dryer than a good martini. He's a poised figure, standing in the center, looking about with that keen gray stare. "So. What may I do for you, now?"
Constantine returned the dry with on a cracker but, oh, he did bring a plate of cheese back upnodding for Lamont to follow. He set it down, arm wrapped for now with some poultice on it. Brown eyes looked up to Lamont and he said sincerely, "I'm working a series of cases. I'm trying to factor if they are at all related.I need help finding their threads of relation, and if they do? We need to figure out what and why. Before that, I need you to answer me… very honestly because I swear on my mother's soul," Scary thing for him to do as he had a spotty track record protecting those, "I won't be shocked or upset. Eeeh disappointed certainly but were you the dark man sent to hunt me?"
He listens as John speaks, calmly, as he takes cheese and crackers. Nodding along, looking thoughtful, until that last question. At that last, however, he looks up sharply. "What? No. I have never pursued you in that fashion. No one has set me on to you, and you are hardly such a villain in the karmic sense that the Shadow must needs confront you. Where did you hear that, though?"
Constantine nodded slowly and was… frustrated. He had feelings and the world was more useful when he only cared about himself which, at the end of the day, was his usual ration of one person left standing in the room. It wasn't selfishness; it was practical ratios and probabilities. "THree years before Aloys died our partnership came to , well let's call it an abrupt end. Blighter tried to sacrifice me. I took exception to this. But I suppose if you can't lose a man to his own ambitions what can you lose em to? Three days before he died and the Archive was written he gives us a call up. He tells me, 'Johnny, I did wrong by ya and I need to square it. They're comin for us. They're coming for all of us and the dark man hunts you, John. I hid you but I'm going to fix this.'
John poured himseld a refill in his cup and just set a cup down in front of Lamont. "Have every reason to believe the possibility was there but I needed to hear you say it. Good. Moving forward the archive is created three days later and Aloys is undone in the process. We move to now. Trying to figure how I wound myself up on Hargrove's short list then. Were it youdifferent story but that means… I ran into this bloke potentially before. I mean if general unlikableness was the reason there'd be a line of people waiting for my departing exodus butt hat's not the case. Enter a cult in the park two nights past night and we ask ourselves, could these things be connected?"
Lamont lays his hands on his knees, straightens a little. His eyes go oddly blank, as if he were searching some sort of archive of his own. "No," he says, finally. "Most definitely not me." Then he refocusses on John. "A cult here? In Central Park, I take it? And….entirely possible."
Constantine walked over and sat across from his once teacher, nemesis, rival, and friend. He reckoned they were both trying to figure out what they were now, but he was willing to take a chance on that one. "Thanks." It was murmured, but genuine. "I was right hopeing the world wasn't so shite you'd bye my huntsman." He set, not tea down but that bottle of whiskey from teh shelf and poured them a finger each. "Cemetery at 3:01 in the am. Started with a bit of unintended astral travel from my sleep. Woke up with a taste in my mouth. followed it. Graveyard. Cult of the Mak or Familia d'masque, seems to be a cylical cult where iI ca guess every 100 years their god: Lord of Chains or Lord of Masks awakens, maybe demands… what it's hungry? vain? both? in exchange for providence of a different kind. THey almsot sacrificed an eleven year old mutant boy. Me and this smashing bloke you should speak with because he needs a better tailor, freed the lad and got him home. THey did make off withthe silver mask from teh ritual. I have one of their cultist detained and all the personal information from their vehicles. I figure… if anyone can do something with that?" He winked to Lamont. Wait did John say he had a body? It was alive right