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Constantine has been greatly errant from the world above, because sometimes if someone puts up walls? Well digging under them works just as well. No one ever looks down or up. To this extent buried under New York City the demon blooded gutter mage dragged his roommate henceforth informing as they wound down, down, down into the city, in some places using John's hand as a torch so they could see… things that one probably didn't want to see but hey no one tripped and died. "Good luck of all this is I found an interesting clientele that hopefully results in less of the furniture catching fire."
Cassidy is easily dragged just about anywhere, including Hell and back again if necessary. He is pretty mellow about the whole thing. We're going underground to wander around under the city? Sounds good to him. He whistles a bit to himself as they go, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his old battered workboots the sort that don't mind tromping through all manner of things, and a plain t-shirt on that's a dull grey color. "Oh yeah?" Then he pauses. "Should I have brought th'fire extinguisher?" His Irish accent is thick, even after a couple of centuries.
Halgrim's little lean-to as upgraded slightly since Constantine last saw it. Now, instead of a simple angle-up layer of corrugated fiberglass precariously supported by wood boxes, it has two side 'walls' of cinderblocks covered by heavy blankets, and the fiberglass is resting on top of those as a roof. A classic bead curtain of dark red and black serves as the entrance/exit/front 'wall', and it's backed up against another structure to close it off on that last side. The beads are pulled back, revealing Halgrim inside, sitting on his 'bed' (a barely-serviceable futon cushion on a cot), nursing a hot mug of something aromatic and paging through a large, well-worn, leather-bound book; 'Bulfinch's Mythology' is barely legible along the spine. Yet more concrete blocks, these with a pair of much-flattened couch cushions in a garish red and yellow paiseley as a nod at comfort, serve as a seat for Adam. The lean-to's height was, at some point, notably upgraded, so Adam's head isn't at risk.
"It's not a bad collection, as these things go," Halgrim is saying to Adam. "I certainly can't fault him for keeping these mythologies in people's minds despite the rampant growth of Christianity." The child's rendering of some sort of wolf-beast with a black, squiggly mantle and great curling horns remains on one wall, unmolested in the construction.
"You've met Lambert, have you not? He says 'history', not 'mythology.'" Adam is lounging on the cinderblock chaise Halgrim has thoughtfully constructed for him, looking over his shoulder at the beautiful illustrations. He folds up surprisingly well.
Constantine returned to the scrag and found the lean-to that was set up for his latest client. At a glance they didn't look like they belonged here, but some operated on the subtle. Rolling up, hands dropped into the pockets of his trousers, "Adam," He greeted the mountain of a mosiac, Professor." He assured, "This is my mate Cassidy… he's… one of us." He pulled a cig from the pack in his pocket and lit it offering one up to Cass before he stepped away. "I've t'go collect on a debt someone owes us. 'Fraid that's a bit of a delicate matter , but I'll meet you right back here. "Professor, the good news for you is hopefully it'll get us one step further to helpin you out."
Cassidy shakes his head when Constantine offers him a cigarette, grinning a little bit sidelong and saying, "Seriously. Fire extinguisher." He then watches as the introductions are made and he gives a wave and a nod to each of those gathered before watching Constantine amble off, leaving him with Adam and Halgrim. "Nice art," he says, nodding toward the picture in a totally unironic fashion.
"Well, as someone else for whom this isn't just a passing fancy my ancestors once talked about around fires, I have to say Lambert may be on to something there," Halgrim tells Adam, his tone going dry. His accent is notably Scandanavian, with the lilting nuances of Norwegian or Swedish. He sets the book and his tea aside when Constantine and Cassidy approach, and gets up. "Mr. Constantine," he says, nodding as the mage departs, and offers his hand to Cassidy. He introduces himself, "Halgrim Lindqvist," and glances over his shoulder at the child's drawing, giving it an amused look. "Thank you. It was a gift from someone who helped build the," he gestures at his 'home away from home', such as it is.
Adam also offers his hand, the size of a child's torso. "I am called Adam." There's another name that might leap to mind for him, a weird, inaccurate version of him that was all the rage for monster movies in the 50s. Despite endless complaints from literature fans that Frankenstein is the scientist, not the monster, it persists. "You are a friend of Constantine?" He pauses, remembering how Constantine had reacted the last time he called someone the mage's friend. "An associate, of Constantine."
Cassidy looks over the home with a sort of idle appreciation for its construction among the rest of the shanty town. He's a squatter, himself, so he can't comment on anyone else's digs. He doesn't seem to be looking at it critically though, just thoughtfully. When a hand is offered, he shakes it, both Halgrim's and Adam's if they are both offered. "Just Cass is fine," he says and then nods toward Adam. "Yeah, we're friends." He grins, noting the correction and then saying, "I'm a vampire." Since it's not visibly obvious, and it seems as good as an explanation as any for his hanging out underground with more obvious monsters.
Halgrim blinks at Cassidy's declaration of being a vampire, and considers him with some consternation. He catches himself, and shakes his head. "Apologies, it's just I suppose films and books lead me to expect a vampire to be more…obviously vampiric," he says. He sounds like he's trying not to come off as horribly gauche and well-aware he has missed the mark by a kilometer or three.
Adam tips his head to Cass, an abbreviated bow. His hand is cool and feels, well, feels like dead flesh that's somehow still moving. Gross. "You appear very human. Why is that? Do the guards give you trouble?"
"Aye, you know, when I woke up in a swamp an' found out I had to drink blood an' wasn't agin' a bit then I had a might bit o' a shock, meself. And yet, here we are," he says spreading his hands outward a bit, "Full on burnin' up in the sun, fire's bad, vampire." He doesn't seem to mind. He's weird for a vampire, and he knows this — at least by all popular mythology about them. "The guards know me well enough. This place used to be my old stompin' grounds moren' fifty years ago, an' I don't look a day older. They figured it out."
Halgrim nods, visibly biting back a comment ('Fascinating', perhaps, to go by his expression). He nods his head out towards the fountain. "Has it changed much? I'm only recently here myself, after," he gestures at Adam, "Adam and Dr. Morbius found me."
Adam nods, too, also interested. Really, being looked over by these two is more than a little like getting pinned to a glass slide and popped under a microscope. "How is it the young people say? You 'pass'. It must be very convenient." He's a tiny bit envious. "Those of us who can, and have only one shape, are uncommon."
Cassidy nods his head, "I'm familiar with Michael Morbius. We've been acquainted," with a bit of a grimace and then a grin, which could mean any number of things, really. He takes the scrutiny well enough, doing a little backstroke under the microscope. He handwobbles, "Sure, I pass up until a bit o' sunlight hits me an' I go up in flames. Then, less so. But at night, sure, no problem. It's definitely an advantage."
Halgrim raises his eyebrows, and his curiosity gets the best of him. Once a researcher, always a researcher. "Is the reason for thatand the concern with firemystical? Or is there something biologically innate to vampirism that causes it to happen?" He pauses, and adds, "If you know, of course." He grimaces. "I've some experience with waking up to a very different self, and no answers to be had."
"We all fear fire," Adam murmurs, deep, vast voice that's only hanging out for now. It leaves the impression it could get extremely loud extremely quick. "If there is one thing humankind has correct about us all, that is the one." He's very still, none of the usual shifting or stretching that is expected from a living being. Yet something about him gets restless, talking about humanity and fire.
Cassidy shrugs his shoulders and admits, "Couldn't tell ya an' never really went about tryin' t'find the answers, m'self." He nods his head to Halgrim then and offers a fist-bump to waking up in a different situation with no answers. "Whoever did this shite to me was long gone by the time I was awake. Mostly I figured it out on my own." He then nods to Adam, seeming to agree with his sentiments on the topic.
Halgrim looks askance at Adam, then out over the Metropolis. He starts to say something, stops himself, and shakes his head. "It's reasonable enough for anything to fear fire. Perhaps there are mutants who can wield it and are immune to it. Anything else…" He gets that distant look again and frowns, dismisses whatever he's thinking of with a shrug. He mirrors Cassidy's gesture in the manner of someone not familiar with what they're doing but cognizant of the sentiment behind it, and asks, "I assume there's nothing to be done for it?"