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Finding John Constantine was not a difficult thing to do if you knew how to lure him out, knew precisely where to look, or if you just happened to live with the man and he was throwing balls of paper like there's a prize for getting the most at the end.
The floor was just littered and the Exorcist was at the workbench, fireplace on because it was cold enough to freeze one's bollocks right off, and swearing into his tea that was somehow more embittered than he was.
It's been a month in New York and Jesse's search has been waylayed on several fronts. Whether it's been with John's ample supply of cases and people coming and going, or finding Cassidy on his benders, or getting into fights with Tulip and having her storm off, Jesse's just been having a bit of a distraction from his goal. He's managed to do some looking for God, but for as many weird things as New York has to offer, let's just say there's a lot of white noise.
Jesse left early this morning in a foul mood and comes back, stomping heavily up the stairs with leaden bootfalls to the main living space. He hipchecks the door open with a grunt and stops when he sees the numerous balled up pieces of paper all over the floor. "If you're aimin' for the fireplace, you're shit at it." Greeting with a grunt, Jesse shuts the door forcefully so the old hinges don't stick it open, picking up the nearest ball of paper and opening it up to read it.
The paper was, written in Latin and seemed to be less religious in text an more.. math? Was he making a recipe? Whatever it was was not coming to him but it seemed he was trying to translate something out of a book. John sighed and said tiredly, "My intern is missing, someone's kidnapping some mutant lads, and I had to deal with some folks I really didn't want to. Yeah, I'd say my aim was a bit tossed." He was- did he - he didn't sleep yet. He squint at Jesse and murmured, "Not that you don't have shite about shite going on. You look like hell mate. Have us a sit down?"
Latin. Jesse can recognize that much in an instant, and the reactive groan that makes the back of his brain hurt already in reaction. Re-balling the page up, Jesse tosses it toward the crackling fireplace with a sidelong gesture, not granting himself the catharsis of watching it burn and turn to ash in a flair of light.
"Sounds like when it rains, it pours, friend." Jesse observes. Sure, his hair looks a little more wild and stuck up in odd directions than usual, suggesting that the preacher's been pulling at his hair rather literally already today. But his eyes aren't bloodshot, so he got some sleep at least, and he's not shitface drunk. Dropping down in one of the consistently dusty and overstuffed chairs, Jesse stretches his back with an ach, letting the joints pop audibly. "Nah, nah, it's all right, John. It's nothin' compared to—well," a calloused hand gestures in John's direction. "What's goin' on? You need a hand, or an ear? You look like you're drownin' over there."
Constantine sighed and really didn't like to carry on. He didn't like to complain, grouse yes, but complain? Nah. Tonight was no different. He thought about it though, he really thought about it. He did share with Jesse the one thing he could acutely relate to, "Saw Astra the other night." He watched Jesse as if he should get that automagically. Brown eyes looked around the room and he just shook his head. "Spent 9 years picking up after Aloys' mistakes… now I'm livin in em all over again. Some things we don't get to walk away from, Mate. Yeah?"
It takes a moment for Jesse to catalogue the name—to be fair, John has a long laundry list of people he's fucked over, fucked up over and generally failed. Not always his own fault, not that John ever listened to that logic. He then cringes sympathetically. "The girl who got dragged off t'hell an' all that mess? I'm sorry, John." kicking his booted feet out in front of him, Jesse crossed his legs at the ankles, angling toward the fireplace while it tried in vain to warm the drafty old place. "I suppose it's a sort of lesson in forethought, in there. Actions that take an instant can have reprocussions that echo on forever. Shitty thing is when it's not entirely in our control, an' you make the best decision you can in that instant with the cards you're given." Jesse muses thoughtfully while he watches his friend (?) from a sidelong vantage. "Yeah. Some things we're just not allowed to walk away from." Jesse agrees with a heavy intonation through vagueness. "There's supposed to be themes in life. But damn if some of them aren't frustrating as hell." He leans to one side of the chair, propping his elbow up on an arm to twist his fingers in that inky black hair. "Beatin' a dead horse, it makes you wonder when's enough. I'm sorry, John."
Constantine stopped fussing to turn his attention tiredly on Jesse. For what it was worth he did listen and at the end of it there was but a nod of agreement. "Yeah, well I don't think enough will ever satisfy most of em. At least seems it." He looked at the drawing and reached out, pulled up a candle flame to him from teh fireplace, and just dropped it on the page he was working on. Fuck it. he offered with a tired optimism, "Well there's no more accidental gate directly into the yawning void of the abyss in our basement. That's something. Now we'll have to take out the rubbish proper I suppose." He waited for Jesse to back up that part of the conversation to the un-fun part.
For as long as he's spent time around Constantine, Jesse still watches with muted fascination while that lick of flame travels across the room, bowing to John's will to be thrown at whatever he was working on, sending it up in a controlled burn of smoke and magic. Sure, the good book said something about magic and witches and evil, but there was plenty enough evil that humans could do that disgusted Jesse more than any thumbnail's width of magic John's done in front of him. 'And without a God in heaven, what the fuck did it all matter anyway,' says Jesse the cynic.
"Good news. Though I'm really gonna miss the convenience. It's gettin' colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra out there, but I guess the lesser odds of damnation and hell mouths is worth the loss. That's real sacrifice there, mah friend." Pulling hard on a twisted bit of hair, Jesse's fingers came free and that section of black hair stood out straight from the side of his head. "Bad news: Tulip left. She took the car. So we're stuck with public transit a while."
Constantine blinked "She did what?" A hand rubbed his face and came to rest pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course she did. Bloody hell. Well one thing to do now: get sauced, make friends with someone with a proper vehicle." He squint and started working out their logistics when he remembered an oversight: Other people have feelings too. His lips unpursed from thought and he asked, "This callin for a drink?"
Jesse eyes John, his hand dropping limp to the arm of the chair, a vaguely offended look written into the man's expressive brows. "What the hell do you mean 'of course she did'?" Tread carefully there, John. There's more to the story than just that. "Damn right it calls for a drink, but dependin' on what you say next, Ah'm not so sure it's going to be with you."
Constantine arched an eyebrow and side tilted his head with a shrug, "Seems she's the type. This sort of thing seems entirely Tulip to do, don't it? Mine keeps tryin to kill me. Yours just keeps stranding you. I say piss on em all. We have a purpose, and we are, in the end, all men to our own devices. Live a bit, drink in the sin, Help us stop assholes from eating children." He shrugged and squint observing, "I mean we cna move on but we can't go back, Jess."
Jesse's temper defused for the moment, he seems properly mollified by John's reply, relaxing back into his chair, but still no less grumpy for it. Sullen while John talks, like an ember that wasn't given enough fuel to flicker back to flame, but is still hoarding heat and ruminating on all the things in the world that deserve to be burned to ashes. "Can we though? Move on?" Jesse spouts off to Constantine with an impatient gesture; cutting through the air with the edge of his hand. "Can we really? Because like you said, sometimes you just ain't allowed to walk away from things. And yer drownin' in what your up to, Ah'm about to start burning down clubs to cut down on odds."
Constantine squint to Jesse and sighed, "Well geographically we'll have to. The whole blody town blew up, mate. Not exactly much more than a crater really. So yeah. Onward is what we have because I'm pretty allergic to freezing my bollocks off. It makes me break out in grousing and punching." There was a sage nod to go with it from the pragmatic sorcerer. "What are you lookin for? Why are we burning clubs?"
"Ah wasn't talkin' about Annville…" Jesse groaned, rubbing a hand over his face while he thinks about the smoldering crater where his church once stood. And if he were really in an unkind feeling mood, he might even say the world was better off for it. Sighing, the Preacher agonizes in silence for a moment, then lids those bottomless dark eyes and turns back to John. "Yer lookin' fer demons. Well. Ah'm lookin' fer God." He pauses for laughter.
Constantine wasn't laughing. He was too tired to laugh and was already chuckled out at Morbius taking offense in presuming he was catholic. Such is life. There was a shrug and he mused more to himself than looking for any sort of answer, "Sometimes I wonder if they aren't one in teh same."
"All things considered, Ah'm startin' to wonder, myself," Jesse says rather bluntly without a whiff of sarcasm in his tone. It's one thing for a Preacher to lose his faith; it's another entirely for one to wonder if God isn't a demon. But there's no irony in his features as Jesse stares at John. His eyes clear and black as a scrying bowl filled with water, reflecting all the ugly truths that lurk behind them. "That's why Ah'm gonna find him. And Ah'm gonna kick him square in his damn teeth and /make him/ answer."
Constantine cracked an answer. He was tired and his spirit kicked in the vulnerables, but still, Jesse was onto something. potentially brilliant. "Well the Eldest was made of him. There's some theory with some gods that they share in their power and by the distribution of the ppopulation? Potentially leaving him pulled in too many directions. I don't buy that though. Wanker who ran errant of the job? That, that I would buy. C'mon. You're mending heartbreak. Can't do that on an unpickled liver, mate."
Jesse grunts his agreement, one foot shaking beneath the other, making them both bounce, outstretched on the floor. "My heart is screaming too loud. The only way Ah know how to cure it is to make something else scream louder. Liver sounds as likely a place to start as any." Agreeing evenly as he continues to stare into the cursed John Constantine.
"If what an angel said under particular distress can be trusted, he /left/, John. Don't know why, don't know exactly when, but the son of a bitch got up and left. We've been trackin' him since Oklahoma, but always three steps behind. Whatever bits and troubles you're running into? Well, if you've been getting more trouble than usual, I'm willing to bet it's a 'while the cat's away' scenerio, though they're trying /mighty hard/ to keep it quiet upstairs. So unless you want every demon with a hard on for topside to start unionizing, Ah might suggest keeping that information under your hat."
Jesse blows out a breath and unfolds his feet with a decisive sounding thud of hard-soled boots to the thick rug. Getting to his feet swiftly with a shove against the chair, as if it had offended him. Jesse Custer was a live wire tonight and itching to make someone else's body scream in protest if he couldn't make his own stop. "I /might/ have initially stuck around you because I figured if anyone attracts demons like a magnet, it's you. Figured we might get a whiff." So much for that!
Constantine smirked and shrugged, "I don't think you're wrong necessarily. I spoke with their Union Boss. Got some… other things going on that they haven't come clean with. Turns out there are, and it's under hat, descendants of the Nephlim here roaming around, yeah? Turns out, and 10 to 1 they'll be looking for us. Me for my own reasons and you for Genesis no doubt. But still… Some angel self-rightous pricks have been hunting down these people and I'm trying to keep one particular bird alive. Makes one wonder if they don't know about teh coverup."
Jesse stares blankly at John when he mentions the mess with the Nephlim, blinking slowly. "Sorry. It's hard to be surprised while I'm bein' a meat suit to a demon-angel. But that's good to know, just in case any of the sons of bitches come out of the woodwork." Squinting at John, there's an arch of one dark eyebrow. "Trying to keep a Nephlim bird alive? Or this a different bird. With you, either one's just as likely."
Constantine shrugged and admitted without shame, "I dunno, mate. Feelin a bit nostalgic maybe. She reminds me a bit of Zee. Either way she doesnt' deserve being hunted like a fox by houndswho have genetic issue with her great ancestors." He didn't want to care. He really really really did not want to care about the affairs of cosmic beings or any of hte mortals they haunted…but he did. "Well they don't seem to be on my arse any more than usual. You I'm a mite bit worried about. They're … quite rude. Angels. Wankers. All of em.
"Preachin' to the choir, man," Jesse agrees, nudging one of the balls of paper around the floor with his toe. Booting one into the fireplace. "These two upside down fucks we ran into first were frustrating. Hard as hell to perish. Like roaches, they keep comin' back." Sliding one hand in his front pocket, Jesse squares off against Constantine, the stark black with those white and silver accents making his stature seem taller than it was. Probably a conscious decision. "We drinkin' or what, man?"
Constantine flashed the Preacher a shark-grin and slapped him in the shoulder, "That's the spirit. "The question made John look at Jess like he jsut grew a seocnd head and waved him to come with. A hand gripped his shoulder in a squeze. "We jsut lost… the car mate. Also your bird. For that? I'm sorry." His nose wrinkled in a nod and said "Tomorrow we save the world from gods and their infinite mistakes. Tonight we worry about us…cause they sure as shite aren't."
Jesse's jaw tightens, visible beneath the somewhat trimmed scruff clinging to his face, but there doesn't seem any malice aimed toward John. Just sensitivity over his recent lovelorn wound being poked a little bit. "Yeah, well, if life's shown me anythin', it's that things always come back around. Tulip bein' just one of them. She's just…mad at me." Jesse grunts with a dismissive irritation and aims them out toward the door. "Drinks are on you tonight."