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Every diary entry about an encounter with John Constantine could read like pulp noir. Dark stormy night? Check. Grizzled man in a trench coat? check. Terrible lighting? Check. Who needed to read this stuff when one can just pay him a visit when he called up to check in?
It was far earlier in the morning when he sounded actually concerned ringing Lindon up before 7am just to see if he was fine. Good. Good good. And then just hung up with no explanation. He was passed out in the chair downstairs with a blanket helpfully added to him after the fact when the door rang and he answered, half dressed, with blanket, "Lindon. Good. Good good. In you go. Quick now."
Lindon shows up bundled in a long woolen coat, a scarf covering everything but his eyes. "John," he says, his voice muffled with his wrappings. He hurries in, looking John and his blanket over. "Did I interrupt you?" he asks. "I can come back later if now's a bad time." He seems well, a few shadows under his eyes but otherwise okay.
Constantine replied cryptically, "Now is always a bad time, yesterday is always best, but tomorrow yet holds potential we cannot yet equate." Right, someone was working on spellcrafting into the wee hours again. The door opened and blanket and arm gestured Lindon to come inside. "Blast, it's a right fine spring mornin isn't it?" Said he of the abnormal lack of snow. "Tea, biscuits, all that jazz is upstairs. I think Cass found or made them ."
"I like Cassidy," Lindon says. He unwinds the scarf and unbuttons his coat. "It's good to see you," he says. He shrugs out of his coat and looks around for somewhere to hang it. "It's always weird being in here," he admits. "Knowing what happened." He regards John awkwardly, then gives him a robust clap on the arm. He's not sure if they're up to hugging yet. "Tea and biscuits sound good."
Constantine sighed begrudgingly, "Yeaaaaah me too." Which, honestly, without Cass these past weeks John may not function at all. Not as a human anyways. At Lindon's expression John boggled at him, "I am allowed to have a social life t- oh." Right. Where Lindon was zapped and scrambled nearby, and where his accidental assailant lived and…did… what the hell was Aloys up to John wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know either. "Yeah let's jsut stick to tea and biscuits, mate." He pulled the blaneet around his skin to protect it from the cold like one pulled a cover closed over a book and covered in about as much ink. "You look like you're working on a right fine immitation of me. What's going on with you, Lindon?"
Lindon shrugs a shoulder and says, "Not much. Headaches, a little insomnia. It happens." He taps his temple. "I almost had a vision, and my head always acts up in and around those. Lamont talked me down." He smiles thinly. "When it happens, I just get reminded of how it's all going to end, and I get a little depressed is all." He waves a hand. "Don't let it bother you."
Constantine arched an eyebrow and waved a hand, "Well with what? The inevitable heat death of the universe? Eeeh we got time. Places to go after that besides." Apparently he has considered several angles on the topic in the past. "And I know you know about dimensional shifts. Bu, remember in the end? This is all Strange's problem, not yours mate. So teeeechnically? It'll suck for him." There was a cheery thought. John was the Knight of umanity. Humans were portable. Strange was the protector of this realm…that was pretty finite oddly. Whatever and wherever it was it was still being and he ahd to take care of it. John could bail…in theory. "Someone dropped off these little lemon biscuits with an icing on them. I'm actually put on by them. So ideas what hte vision was about? Don't tell me our lad, Alex. We just bought him a present."
"I'm going to die, John," Lindon says. "But yeah, we've got time." He perks up at the mention of lemon biscuits. "I think the vision was going to be about what the Kree revealed to the U.N. It's kind of a pity I didn't go through with it; that information might've been useful. It's just that it comes with a cost, and Lamont gets upset."
Constantine didn't slow down. This was not the first doom prophecy he's heard. It was still heavy and he said with dry humor not at all dismissing the actual gravity of this, "Well that means yooooou may get there first which means you can save me a seat that's not shite. Last time? Had to stand in line for-ev-er." He shook his head and nodded for Lindon oto follow upstairs. THis make him go to battle with his thinking cap on. "Kent's lost… a great number of people and he cares for you a great deal, Lindon. It's why I do him the courtesy of remaining utterly unlikable. This, however, will not help you. So, we investigate options and have aplan in place. Once we… make a plan. That's a thing you know."
"I do like you, John," Lindon says. "Kent's thinking about plans to stave off the damage being done to my consciousness. It could well be that he'll crack it and I'll be okay. You mystics do the impossible all the time, and if you think about it, I am the impossible. Maybe death sentences are just milestones for people operating at this level." He follows John. "I've just made my peace, because when it's happening to you, you either do so or you go mad."
Constantine paused and turned to Lindon, "Well some people do both. Score of mad spirits out there. Angry fuckers they are. I'll get the kettle on. So, if it helps… I can get Kent what I've done previously. Not perfect, but it worked with what we had. May… need to undo it and try again. Pull teh stitches out and re-sucher it to say. Granted it's absoluuuuutely no fun for you but could work." This was Jon for caring. If something bothered him he tried to do something about it and one got his 'affection' in effort.
"You saved my life," Lindon says. "I would've died on the spot, so I can't really complain about the stitchwork. But yeah, maybe it just needs a little tweaking." He smiles as he watches John being John. Likeable whether he likes it or not. "I put myself in your hands. Plural you. Kent will likely have opinions. He was mentioning wanting to learn the original spell but I don't know if I want to go through that part again."
Constantine grumbled. That was warlock for 'cheers'. Up the stairs he wandered to go get the 'domestic' things. The kettle went on and he was… dodging getting too involved but in truth he was up to his neck already so it wasn't really a matter of 'choice'. It wasn't even the illusion of choice at this point. "Let Kent know… I agreed to teach the old bat how to do the thing." He sighed and looked back to Lindon with a resolute nod. He was in. "Had a good space to do that too until Strange sealed off Al's stairs. Then again it's best not operating near the actual void either. so knowing this is coming up? That's good. That means we know what we're working up against. Easier to do math when all the variables are known, yeah?"
"You agreed to teach the old bat how to do the thing," Lindon murmurs. "Strange did what?" He looks around like he might see Strange's work somewhere in the flat. "We're doing okay, John," he says with a small smile. "Right now it's an what lies down the road if we don't turn off, but we're not there. You're right, it's easier when know all the variables, and the one I'm happy to share is we've got time yet." He sits down, making himself at home inasmuch as he's ever really comfortable.
Constantine warmed an odd little grin to Lindon and waved the butterknife at him while getting the jam out for the scones, "Everything dies, Lindon. That's the beauty of it. Gives life meaning. Even Cass and likely I will too and someday we'll welcome the rest. Until then? Shite to DO my friend." He set the kettle otu and the small bowl withthe jam and the plate of scones. Look at him act housebroken. "Until then, to our longevity, mate. Cheers. And yeah I found a hole carved in fekkin reality under the stairs. Hallway of… many horrors that it veered off to. Oblivion being one of them. Nasty business. Nearly lost Strange in teh process at one point. Boy was heeeee surprised. It's good though. Keeps the senses sharp it does."
"A hole in reality under the stairs is good," Lindon says, trying the concept on for size. "Anything you can walk away from," he says. "So how did you and Cass end up friends?" he says. "He's interesting. I like him. He brings me tea, and he's always really thoughtful, even though you wouldn't know it to look at him." Tsk, judging a man by his tats and leather.
Constantine warmed a bit of a grin, and a squint to his eyes, "Yeah. I like em too. We met outside of Abeline Texs. Long story how either of us found our way there. Jesse's fault. I was tracking Genesis. Cass was arrested for helping out Jess and was looking after him. Now Jess is out hunting God to slap the shit out of him for being a lazy ass, and Cass keeps me from blowing my happy arse up and we? we have been enabling one another for a couple months. Cassidy is my kinda people."
"He's nice," Lindon says. "I'm trying to imagine you in Texas. How did you survive the rednecks?" Maybe the mental image of John in a ten gallon hat is why he laughs suddenly. "I don't think I'd have ever had the courage to speak to you or Cass before all of this business with my head. You guys just seem so cool. I was always the nerd in the corner."
Constantine looked up and arched an eyebrow, "Truthfully? Not so different from where I grew up. Naaaaah, mate, don't kid yourself. I was a scrappy little shit that read too much and had the piss beaten out of me for being too small and readin too much. What we take away from that? A little knowledge is dangerous and that makes bullies veeeery afraid." He bit into his scone and shook his head, "Brassy prats." He shared a grin with Lindon and shrugged. "You happy? Then you're winning Lindon."
Lindon slathers jam on his scone, and he thinks about the question. "Yeah," he says. "Sometimes I look at my life and it's like I'm a stranger in my own mind. I do things I never would've done before the brain thing. I don't regret it, though. I think knowing it will end has made me appreciate it that much more." He tips his teacup toward John in a wordless toast, then has a sip. "I didn't get beaten up too much. It was a Catholic school though, so maybe things are different there. I did get picked on, but it was verbal abuse, mostly. Seems weird how much it used to upset me. Now, I'm like I'm a god-damn relic; you're all irrelevant."
Constantine nodded silently to Lindon, "I think it's the irrelevency that drives most meat puppets mad. Another couple thousand years it won't matter. But yeah, nuns are brutal. Dated one once, well…before she was a nun." Lin's story drew a ry grin, "Relics don't grow old, you antique. You'll be part of the old codger club with us in the long run. What're you doin with your holiday this year? I imagine archives are closed."
"You drove a woman to a nunnery?" Lindon says with a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. "That must have been some date." He leans back, uncharacteristically comfortable, or maybe the awkwardness fades once he becomes used to someone being around him. "We're just having a quiet Christmas at home," he says. "The cats love the tree. They climb up it and nest in the branches." He grins as he says that. Total sucker for the wee beasties. "What about you? What's going on with you this holiday season?"
Constantine snicered and slouched back in his chair. That grin was befitting of a troublesome tomcat, "Drive one to be a nun, and another almost to homicide. They're a fun lot. One locked me in the mirror dimension for a good while until I forged my own way out… she was a tad upset." Still it amused him because there was no point in carrying the grudge. "Eh, I have no plans. Was thinking about researching the thing hunting Alex and us and the…others. Maybe see if Cass wants to grab dinner and come with. Dunno what his plans are."
"Oh no, John," Lindon says. "You can't just not do anything. Why don't you come to dinner with us? Bring Cassidy." Because Lamont will love that, surely. "It's not good to be alone on Christmas. We'll have plenty, too, since it'll just be the two of us." He sits forward, giving Constantine the full brunt of those big brown eyes. He's just shy of a lower lip wibble.
Constantinearched an eyebrow slowly. It was a big offer on Lindon's part and John said aorund his teacup, "I'm pretty positive Kent's looking forward to spending that time with you. Which reminds me, I have something to drop off for the old man." He sipped his tea and- goddamn if Lindon didn't look like a corgi that was told he was a bad puppers. John sighed. "Maybe. I'll chat up Cass. Alright? Alright?"
Lindon smiles. If he had a tail, he would be wagging it. "All right," he says. "We'll make sure there's plenty of food and mulled wine. Kent loves his mulled wine. I like making the food. Josie might be there. She's my baby sister." He pauses, thinking of how to describe the young woman. "She's a hunter, and she's only a little rabid. I'm sure she won't bite." He pauses again. "Mostly sure."
Constantine cracked a grin at the description. Oh god why did Lindon just tell John that one. "Rabid? That's a hell of a description. She isn't a werewolf is she?" Oh this might be a terrible idea. Still he let the situation drop and sighed, "I have something to drop off for Kent. Might as well make one trip I suppose. If you're insisting I'll see what I can do and expunging filth can, ya know, I suppose wait. I mean…it'll be there. Talk about job security."
"We could do something about them," Lindon says. "I don't expect evil to take time off for Christmas, but the way I figure, we've got to eat, right? Might as well do the right thing on a full belly with some wine to warm us. Maybe we can have this Alex fellow come stay, too. It's a big house, and it's safe." He sips his tea absently as he thinks, making plans aloud. "If you found him in the Lower East Side, he might be Jewish. I hope that won't offend him."
Constantine nodded slowly and squint, "Cohen. Jewish name… reminds me I was going to bring him bread." He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. As a good portion of his tattoos were in Hebrew it wasn't a far cry that he kept some cusoms under his belt as well, but that he observed them was perhaps the curious part. There was a softness to his sharp, brown eyes; a kindness in them that was buried but not dead, "Lindon, if it comes from a kindness he'll find no fault in the gesture."
"It's a kindness to at least try to accommodate," Lindon says. "We'll have turkey instead of ham, and I'll make sure everything is at least passably kosher." His gaze skims the air, like he's reading words written upon it. "Yeah, I can alter the recipes so he can eat them. Did you know the tradition of the Christmas ham comes from the Nordic Yule feasts of roasted wild boar?"
Constantine nodded slowly with a shake of his head, "Sat and had a loooong talk with an angel once about the mass marketing of other deities' holidays and obervance days. I might have been…very pissed at the time but it was an interesting talk… but yeah I was aware the holiday is as much bullshit marketingwise as anything else that's been commercialized. But," He looked to Lindon and nodded to the young volume, "I'm always up on learning more though. Love to hear what caught your fancy though. I do love to learn new things, Lindon."
"I met an angel," Lindon says. Then his cheeks color. He watches Constnatine for a moment, and it turns out that's all he's volunteering. "What do you feel like learning about tonight?" he asks with a small smile. "I love to talk about things, and to spread knowledge. You already know so much, though. You're a one of a kind book written in flesh and blood, and maybe someday I'll get to read you."
Constantine looked to Lindon and clearly his experiences were far different from his companion's. "Hipocritiacal bastards. Careful around them. " He refilled the teacups, Lindon's first then his. He wasn't a savage. At the remark of reading him there was a tug of a grin. "Well, I suppose you're one of the few that could read all of it. Just … I wouldn't advise readng all of me out loud. You'll call down some nasy things wondering what all the fuss is about, yeah?" He was a literal book written in his flesh and blood, beyond LIndon's metaphor. "You don't have to go through the formality of politeness. Really though. If you and Lamont have plans stick to the plans and tell him I said it's find. We haven't caught up in the last 40 years and I'm not much one for holidays unless htey're to invoke something. I appreciate it though." Which was not a decline, but an out for Lindon.
"The more the merrier," Lindon says. Honestly, it'll be fine. We're having quiet nights of good food and mulled wine all the time this time of year. It would just be one more night of the same, when instead it could be a gathering of friends. You saved my life, and Cassidy is always so kind to me. Besides, if we bring this 'Alex' fellow along, the more people who can answer his questions the better." His eyes brighten with mirth as he says, "I insist," he says. "And I promise not to read you aloud. That would be sharing, and I'm a big of a dragon when it comes to the really cool knowledge."
Constantine sucked in his cheeks and looked vaguely squirely about that. Sharing a holiday with others was one step closer to damning them all by proximity. Yeah… that wasn't ever a good sign. Still he had no other plans and finally, in teh end, gave Lindon what he wanted: agreement. "Alright. We'll looka t accommodating. I can't speak to Cassidy though, but I'm sure he'll be happy to entertain the request."
"I hope he does," Lindon says, and he perks up so much to get that acquiesence. "We'll have fine whiskies. There will be a lot to drink, actually. Kent likes his mulled wine, and of course there will be whiskey, scotch, and brandy for after the meal while we sit around the fire." His eyes are gleaming with pleasure. Oh yes, he has it all planned out. "I hope it snows. It's so nice to be indoors with friends and family when it's cold outside. It just won't feel like Christmas if it doesn't."
Constantine took a deep breath. There goes gravedigging plans and avoidance. "Looks like it's going to be balmy and green. Sorry, Charlie." That was the bad news on that. He paused and squint thinking about this for a long moment and considered this critically. Fianlyl he offered, "I may know someone who can help with that though. Are we not wizards? We can find someone who is good with hallucinatory terrain I'm sure. How cold is cold to you? Penguins? Light snow?"
Lindon groans. "Don't say that." He must be the only person in New York wanting it to get colder. He grins suddenly, and he sits up straighter. "You know someone who can make it snow? I'm from the Midwest, so think about winter in Kansas. It's not that bad." To someone from Kansas. "So maybe not freezing cold, but cold enough it feels like a proper winter."
Constantine eyes Lindon for a long time and finished his tea. "Well… I'll put in a word and see what we can't come up wit that'll make you happy and not upset the ecosystem or the neighbours. Suppose I owe you as much, mate. I'll make a call." See? Who said he was an ingrate?