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The drive from the theater to Queens wasn't precisely a short one, but James, or Jim, did as he said he would to Elmo, and drove the three of them back. Jim was, still an absolute nervous wreck. He wasn't certain if it was Elmo's doing or not, and didn't remember, but the well-loved, handmade doll that belonged to a small child bearing three eyes sat in the front seat between he and the mostly unconscious Lindon.
Outside Lindon's apartment in the shadows there was a set of eyes inevitably squinting at the edifice of the house laying in wait for…a thermos? The hell? A tattooed hand handed Morbius the thermos, and the familiar voice attached to said arm, and subsequently said thermos, said to him, "Figured you'd be out here, mate. Got to get you better at B&E. Warmer inside you know. Fairly certain the lad's insulated with cats at this point." This was John-speak for 'hi, I thought you'd be cold'. What's friendship without hassle?
It was around this time an unfamiliar dark green family sedan pulled up into Lindon's drive. With his paranoia paying off there may be no living peacefully among the likes of Morbius from here on out.
To be honest, separated from his power, Lindon could almost enjoy the silence. Without information whipping around in his head, shrieking a hundred facts at him simultaneously, he can actually get some rest. So he dozes even after the worst of the sedation wears off. It's only when the voices creep back into his head that he stirs. Looking out the window, he murmurs, "This looks familiar. Still sluggish, but coming around. "Oh, hey, it's my place." He squints. Disoriented. "Elmo?" He turns in his seat, looking for the smaller man. He hasn't figured out yet that Jim's touch is what zapped him. In his defense, he was kind of sedated by it.
Elmo reassures Lindon, "Still here, sweetheart. We're almost to your place." He's been pretty open about cosseting Lindon, because at this point, aren't we all in each others' pockets? When James pulls up and stops, he gets out and goes to help Lindon out. He mutters, "What exactly did you do to him?" to James.
"John," the voice hums serenely in the shadows cast by the familiar building, gloved fingers stretch across the thermos in gratitude. "Tonight would be rather awkward, I'm afraid." Michael notes quietly as he unscrews the cap of the thermos to take a sniff at what John's stewed together. "He's entertaining. Two is a party, so on, so forth. But there is no rest for the weary, so, fool I am and here I be. And predictable it seems." Michael leans on a faint smile toward John as he screws the cap back on to the thermos. "Thank you. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
Morbius breathes in deeply, turning his attention toward the street as headlights stop in front of the building. "That isn't the child's vehicle," frowning mildly, curious for the moment, Morbius inclines his head toward the street, watching carefully from his normal lurking spot while Elmo helps Lindon out. The soft cry of metal between his fingers makes him realize he's squeezing too hard and relaxes. Waiting and watching.
Constantine offered consolation to his friend with a shrug, "Well, some say constancy is a virtue." Not necessarily John, but some! He glanced across the street and murmured, "Well being as I had information for him I was going to crowd a party, buuuuut… it looks like someone beat us to it. C'mon." He slapped Morbs on the arm as he was investigating the mix of Irish Cream with Greek coffee; and in that large a quantity the bat might be awake for literally ever. He head the squeaking and chided quietly, "Ya know I borrowed that." Seeing the collection John went across the street leaving Michael to stay or follow as he would.
James Yancy; the 28 year old young academic with the well loved family car was helping Elmo get Lindon out. Shoulders slumped and he was calm enough offering, "Maybe this isn't a discussion best for… outside." Well at least the interloper was cautious.
Lindon fumbles in his pocket for his key, and he offers it to Elmo, since his fingers are still a little rubbery and not grasping things quite right. "You know how sometimes when you have too much to drink and your extremities feel funny?" Because that's how he feels. He has yet to spy Morbius, but the familiar gait of John Constantine catches his eye as the man crosses the street. "It's John," he murmurs. "It's all right. He's okay. Well… yes, he's okay."
Elmo, on hyperalert, catches someone sketchy coming this way and his head snaps around. He frees a hand from Lindon and his fingertips crackle with sudden electricity. Tiny lightning bolts jump around and cause hellish static cling. "Pal, you wanna be careful," he warns, and he is not fooling around. Lindon gives John the okay, and he backs down—a little. "You sure?" The electricity settles but doesn't go away.
"And some say predictability is a liability. But nobody in this god forsaken group has heard the same," Morbius replies to John in a delicate murmur, tasting the words as they brush past his lips. His focus on the stranger helping pull Lindon from the car. He rolls his eyes emphatically as he moves to casually follow John. "God, another one," hazarding to murmur. He hangs back while John rushes forward, watching close while Elmo's fingers snap with electricity and Lindon is helped to the sidewalk.
Constantine trod over not giving two shits. His Liverpool accent distinct, and leaning on gruff. He noted Elmo sparking up. He took out a cig, and lit it, the flame catching in his eyes. As the metal scraped with the close of his Zippo and the flame was doused, the reflection of it was still ignited in John's eyes like tiny lanterns for a moment. He took a drag with the bright orange cherry dancing to life, and warned, "Don't be so quick to start something, I'll be finishing, kid." And with no more thought on it looked at the spare and then to Lindon. His tone was one of observation, and maybe a hint of concern when he asked, "You gettin sorted out there, mate?" he took another drag looking from him and for the moment ignoring the other two for now, perhaps. He looked to Morbius, the only other known factor in all of this for a hint or clue.
James, wisely, stayed very quiet in this and did what was his due which was prop Lindon up assuring quietly, "Hey, I'm sorry. You're going to be alright."
Lindon grimaces as he tells Elmo, "Sure." It's not that he doesn't trust John. He does. It's just that he trusts him to be quintessentially John. He watches the lightning dance on Elmo's fingers, and in a low, soothing tone, he says, "Let's just get us all inside. Elmo, Jim, this is John Constantine." His gaze finally finds Morbius, and amidst all the goings-on, he can't help but smile, his proverbial heart in his eyes. "It's Michael," he murmurs. "Why don't we all go inside?"
Elmo's lip curls. The lightning dances to life again—but Morbius's appearance saves the day. "Morb," he says in unmistakable tones of relief. Electricity dies out, taking its weirdly-cast shadows and sharp ozone scent with it. "Am I glad to see you." He grabs Lindon's key to get the door unlocked. "Jim and us, we gotta lot to talk about."
Morbius cannot help but to look a little pleased as John makes a show of that cigarette, turning it to half threat, half promise. Morbius had to give him points for showmanship between the thin press of his lips into a likewise smile. He watches Elmo closely, expecting an immediate reaction from him and likely a need to react from Morbius. The small man stands down after a moment where the vampire was ready to intercept. He shakes his head minutely toward John to signify he hasn't the faintest. Next flashes a suspiciously confused look at Elmo. Clearly a 'why the fuck would you say that' sort of look as he strolls slowly across the street in everyone's wake. Lindon's acknowlegement gains a slow nod and long look. He follows, still with that thermos.
Constantine was still blaze and dissonant as ever. He was mother fucking John Constantine and he'd do as he would do. Lindon wasn't wrong, he was reliable for that even if he was the magi wildcard in play. "Look, mate, I haven't the time for some prestidigous pissing contest. Who's this, what happened to Lindon. Let's get his happy arse inside." He took another drag of the cig and looked over the scene with the face of a disapproving father. John Constantine; Archangel of Fuck-Upperty and y'all summoned him tonight kids. "Withold answers until we're inside." He looked to Elmo and James and kept the questions rapid, and succinct. "Were you followed? Who the fekk are you, and for fuck's sake, Michael can you grab the door?"
James was about to answer. he cleared his throat looking like a clean cut nebbish young man; distressed, with eyes vaguely bloodshot, simple gold wedding band on his left hand that's seen some wear and wasn't overly expensive. Clothes neat and professional but neither sharp nor lavish. Clerk maybe?
Lindon shoots John a look. What, is it so wrong if his ass his happy? Alas, it is mostly confused right now. "We're all on the same side here," he says quietly. Once inside, he gestures to the couch which, miracle of miracles, doesn't have books on it. He does his best to make his way to it, letting himself be helped wherever, though. He's starting to get his legs back, but they're not quite in sync yet. "Jim here works at the Brooklyn branch of the library system." His big dark gaze goes to each person there, so soulful, and not entirely sure what's going on.
"I'll get the door." When the crap did Lamont show up? Just now, in fact. He's not in full Shadow drag, but in one of those dark suits under a topcoat and plain gray hat. In his mundane life, he dresses well but simply enough to not stand out. GEntly, he shuts the door behind himself.
Elmo doesn't seem inclined to let go of Lindon. One might even say he's acting scared and defensive, as he helps Lindon to the couch: trying to keep everyone in front of him, as impracticable as it may be, and his hands are shaking. He shakes his head, answering John, although John gets a side eye. "We weren't followed. I looked out for it." Lamont's appearance makes him jump and both Lindon and Jim get a pinch of static discharge, followed by hastily muttered apologies. "Sorry. Glad you're here," he says to the Shadow.
"He's all the time in the world for pissing contests, just like every one of them doesn't seem to understand how serious any of this is. Don't waste your breath, John. Lord knows I have and it's all been for nothing," Morbius says icily as he strides forward, moving at a crisp pace to take the door as bid. "Don't ask if they were followed, they will not have the slightest idea. Why are you asking ridiculous questions? It's as if you expect anyone to understand that there are people in danger, or the need to be vigilant, or even just not stupid. It's preposterous." Seemingly ignoring Elmo's report.
And of course then Lamont shows up to take the door instead. Michael presses a hand against the sorcerer's chest and /shoves/ him backward. Not engaging his strength to full potential, but to keep the man away from him. A spark of crimson glow in his eyes as he stares straight at Lamont. His voice venomous and quiet, "I'm disgusted with you more than the rest." Whatever's been bubbling beneath the vampire's skin for months seems to be surfacing.
Constantine looked around and let the salt from his comrade wash over him. That cigarette hanging off the corner of his lip bobbed as he drily said, "Fine, I'll be the adult. Jim from the bookshop or wherever, in you go. Let's stow conversation until we're inside the flat. It's late and there's neighbours." When was he the bastion of etiquette? Since it was convenient that's the fuck when. However he had to he went coaralling people inside. Once there he waited for Lamont to get in and declared, "I'm locking the place down." Which Lamont would know, would be John doing what he rarely did, which was working on pulling on the wards Lamont already put there and calling up the mirror dimension. A look silent to Lamont suggest now was the time to help him out. Welcome to the glass sandbox kids. When John Constantine is the responsible party in the room? Someone done messed up the room. he wasn't the Saint of Last Resorts for no reason.
James was positively wide-eyed at what was happening though, and perhaps the big tip off, not as confused as an average Joe should have been. He sighed and had himself a sit on the chair, "Oh not again." The look was serious and it was to Elmo that his glance sought refuge in. His hand fidgeted with the other and the ring on it like a nervous token. "Elmo?" He was looking for him for some… sign of good faith here. Lucy had a lot of explaining to do.
Lindon sits up straighter when Morbius shoves Lamont. He starts to say something, then snaps his mouth shut. Sitting up, he rakes a hand through his hair and says gently, "Should we handle one crisis at a time? I have a feeling there are a few on hand." He winces as he gives Jim an apologetic smile. "That's Michael and Lamont. Michael, Lamont, this is my coworker, Jim. I'm not sure what he's doing here, but…" He looks to Elmo. He was out cold for a lot of what happened, so he defers to the young man who's given him a shock to supply the details.
Once upon a time, Lamont and John were magical partners more often than not. Bringing the Mirror Dimension into play - far more of John's forte than Lamont, but he can lend power. And so he is, when Morbius shoves him. He goes with it and doesn't come back swinging, looking puzzled more than angry, at least at first. "We can discuss that more later, if you wish," he says, drily. "I felt trouble happening, so I came here."
Elmo lights up with alarm when Morbius pushes Lamont. Infighting was the last thing he expected and also the last thing he's equipped to deal with. "Guys!" he says, loudly enough that his voice cracks. "Guys. Please." He sucks in a breath. The Mirror Dimension, he assumes is what John meant by 'locking down', he doesn't pursue that further. It's weird as hell but it's mystic stuff, it can wait. "Okay." He puts an arm around James' shoulder. Hey, he already hugged the guy, James is now on the list of touch-ok. "This is James. He knows what happened to Lindon. He's a mutant. Let him talk." His designation of James as a mutant has weight on it. He and James are the only mutants here and it's his job to guard him. Looking at James, he adds, "You're all right. Nobody's gonna hurt you. We're just all kinda wound up." Nobody is going to hurt James, /right/?
Michael forces down whatever he's on about when John speaks the words 'I'll be the adult'. Fine. I suppose none of us really want that. That sounds like a bad time. A long look lingers on Lamont none the less. "How novel," his tone carries a sarcastic lean as he replies to Lamont's offer to talk. Morbius finally leaves the man alone while the mirror dimension shifts into place. This again. He doesn't seem distressed by it, only shooting Elmo a likewise glance of 'back the fuck away from me' as he plucks off his hat with contrastingly gentile gesture, dropping it to the mirror-table.
"A pleasure to meet you James," Morbius' eyes stop glowing and his tone simmers down without sarcasm or venom to it. He paces, but slowly, before coming to a resting hover somewhat near the couch. "Yes, please explain if you'd be so kind. Nobody here is a threat to you." Unless you make them, of course.
A vampire, a pyromancer, a shadow, 2 mutants argue over a book… Tonight on ABC News. Film at 11…
A long time ago Lamont and John were magical partners more often than not indeed. Old habits died hard, especially when it wasn't the nostalgia he ran from. They've both come an exceptionally long way in the last 35 years though. God they were getting too old for this. He, on the other hand, being calm (chiefly because no one was leaving without their say so) poured himself some of the doctored coffee into the cup that was the thermos lid. His contribution examining the dented tin cap, "Oy, may, ya crushed it."
*
Jim seemed to take quiet refuge in the assurance from the only other Mutant there and the one that knew of his transgressions. He looked up almost sounding like a self-help group. "My name is James Yancy or… well… Jim. I'm a um… I'm a Mutant and I was asked to look for…" He pointed to Lindon with a deep breath looking to Elmo of all people in the room tonight for assurance "The Archive." Whatever happened? This guy 'out of the loop' knew what it was and it was a who. He was positively a nervous wreck. He, in fact, looks liked he was waiting for a huge reprisal on that one but didn't run or flinch.
Lindon's brow furrows, and he says "Oh, Jim." He's not angry, he's just disappointed. "Is that what happened? Who put you up to such a thing? What about Liz? And Bethy?" He looks to Elmo, still a little confused. Miracle of miracles, he does not offer up the nugget of information that the Archive is right here and works at the central library. He just turns those soulful eyes on his coworker. Oh, man.
For once, discretion from Lindon. Amazing. It's a very sea change. Lamont….he doesn't immediately turn on the special effects. He's looking gravely at poor Jim, gray eyes keen. "By whom?" he asks, voice soft. "Who sent you after the Archive? And what do they want with it?" Not a flicker of his gaze towards Lindon. Not yet. Standing with his hands clasped loosely before him, leaning in just a little.
Elmo says quietly to Lindon, "Bethy's a mutant too. S'why she's sick." Other than that, he sticks like glue to Jim's side and lets him answer the questions he's being asked. He doesn't even return the look Morbius is giving him in kind. He's still shivering from the aftereffects of an absolutely brutal adrenaline rush.
Morbius allows his attention to slide toward John while he grouses over the thermos. "I lost my temper. I'll pay you back for it."
The vampire's attention turns back to Jim, a pulse of crimson light swallows his eyes as the man explains his situation. Casting harsh shadows and sickly light across his face before he closes his eyes, jaw clenching. He holds his peace for the moment and looks back toward Jim. Well, the guy already knows what and who he's looking for. Fantastic. May as well see how far deep this goes so he knows who else he needs to murder.
|ROLL| Constantine +rolls 1d20 for: 19
|ROLL| Lindon +rolls 1d20 for: 9
|ROLL| Lamont +rolls 1d20 for: 14
John was drinking and examining if the cup was ever going to lid properly again. Bugger. Was he listening? Oh you bet your sweet ass he was. A hand patted Morbius's back and he said simply, "Still serviceable." He passed his colleague the cup because right now booze and coffee were… likely going to be mandatory in short order.
*
Jim, for all the dread he was carrying around with him took a deep breath and, well, manned up to his faults. He was a man of many failings as were they all, but he wasn't falling down in integrity it seemed. Steeled by Elmo's assurance and people being… reasonable with the pyrotechnics he looked to Lindon really feeling like he owed him the explanation; the friend betrayed. "I'm… a Mutant and I knew about… your situation three months ago. I have an ability to read… history off people and things I touch." Which explains a ton. He took a deep breath pacing himself. Lizzie's … had to get a job. It's not… right but My, um," he looked to Lamont, John, and Michael trying to be as clear as he could, "My daughter Bethy was born… different like… myself and," where was, there was Elmo. Yeah. Like that. "She's not been handling the change well and she's been really sick. The hospital has charged up through the nose and can't… or maybe won't help her. Some know of my ability which," Back to Lindon he answered sheepishly, "Is how I can find authenticity in first editions. But… we were approached by a man by the name of Hayden Spurling who said he could help. He heard us speak of it when we were traveling for medical treatments and approached us."
There was a pause int eh lengthy preamble, "He's been able to, with… his means, help alleviate her condition but said he needed me to help him find the archive so he could help her entirely." His grey eyes flinched closed and through gritted teeth. "Lindon, I'm … I'm a terrible friend. My daughter's slowly dying and I just… I just want to help my little girl. I don't want anyone to get hurt, and Elmo said," He took a deep breath and looked to Elmo with a nod and back to them, "Elmo said he knew a guy that can help me out in Brooklyn so… if… I can… I'd like to help fix anything I've done."
|ROLL| Constantine +rolls 1d20 for: 6
Lindon still doesn't come out and say hey guess who I am. Just in case there's any ambiguity left, any doubt. For a moment, all he can do is look at Jim. He has a mutant power that lets him sniff out first eds? Wait, stay on task. "So far, nothing's been done that can't be undone," he says, "and if it's for Bethy… I don't know I wouldn't have done the same. But you're in with bad people, Jim. We need to get you, Liz, and the kids somewhere safe, like, yesterday."
"I have somewhere," Lamont's voice is very low. The look in his eyes might be perturbing. "A house up the Hudson River Valley, though that might not be far enough. So, what have you told this Spurling, exactly?"
Elmo meets Jim's eyes with a nod. You're doing amazing, sweetie! It seems like nobody is going to try to twist, fold, or mutilate the guy, so he relaxes a bit. Just a bit. His hands are still trembling.
Morbius reaches a clawed hand out in John's direction automatically when he decides that the cup is servicable. Oh, good. That's one less thing to worry about. He holds the cup out, waiting for a refill before taking a sip. A glance of approval in Constantine's direction. Very nice, John.
The vampire in the room remains quiet and listening, only imparting, "And how do you communicate with the man? The last time you had."
Constantine was a salty mother fucker. Scientific method was sound only after one tried to punch holes in it to prove hunch was fact. Everyone's quick to offer condolences, but John lived in a hard world. The exorcist watched the man carefully listening to what was and wasn't said. Well, good questions were being asked to fill in the gaps. The glance given in the approval if the caffeinated booze was met with the slightest upnod. His arms folded and his attention went to teh oldest of his mates and really, well, for lack of others, his only family (adopted or not), to see what the great diviner was coming up with. He was offering… sanctuary? There could be an endgame there. He stuck a pin in that one for later.
*
Jim took a deep breath and said, "By phone. He's not always in New York, and I told him I'd keep looking. I think because of my ability and working with a great number of volumes… maybe I'd have an excellent chance to run across what they were looking for." He paused and tried hard not to look at Lindon, "I didn't tell them that they were mistaken in concept. He knows I ran across it. It took me a while to figure out what happened when the delirium broke." He looked back to the Archive and seemed bewildered and oddly concerned, "How do you put up with that is beyond me."
Looking back to Elmo he finally had calmed down enough to offer, "Hey, um… thanks…for not letting me shoot you." Yeah things might have been a little serious there for a bit. Jim wasn't really the kind of guy that wanted to do violence. Not like half the room. "I have his phone number at home. I can get it for you."
*
It was at this time John spoke and said, "Give us your address. Lamont? We should scope the block and see if anything's listening in." Sure, now he was speaking. He looked at the others and offered, "If our little pissing contest is over, lads, we have a lot of work ahead of us and this moves up our timeline a bit. Jim, see what you can get your hands on that are his. Lamont's going to need those details. Elmo is it? You seem a bright chap. Think you can help get his family moved? He said you know a bloke to help on the health end? Let's get that looked into for the kid's sake." The exorcist's brow narrowed. He drew the line at kids for his own reasons. "Michael? Any chance you can see if someone is following the family members keeping a trail on them? We won't want them followed." He took a deep breath and finally looked to Lindon, "How you deelin, mate?"