The blond man shakes a thin manual in the face of the man who rescued him.
“Is not going to teach me how to drive this piece of junk!”
Now the manual gets waved towards the car that the blond man is standing next to. John Constantine has his signature tan trench coat and suit. He doesn’t look too injured given the situation but he looks very frustrated with the man.
Who doesn’t care. They shrug and say again he’ll get the hang of it with practice. Then he walks away leaving the Englishman fuming.
It looks like he’s going to throw the manual at the man. He even draws his arm back but John stops himself. He huffs, stops over to the car and sits on the hood. The manual gets slammed onto the windshield.
He pulls a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his trench coat along with a lighter. John takes a drag and lets the cigarette sit in the corner of his mouth. He sulks for a moment.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters and picks up the manual to start learning how to drive the car he’s now stuck with.
—
Panorama - The Pavillion
John weaves his way through the line. He’s got a toothpick to chew on satisfying that itch and distracting himself from craving a cigarette. He’s looked through the shelves and he doesn’t see a single pack. What he has on him is going to have to last until he manages to find a source for tobacco.
In the meantime he’s going to help himself to a few things from the folks waiting in line for other samples. Honestly, the alien eggs have been John’s favorite.
His hands are quick and light. Someone would have to be watching him closely to catch him slipping his fingers into the pocket of someone waiting, pluck their wallet and slide it into his pocket. Slight-of-hand magic comes in handy for more than just making cards disappear.
Once he finds a place between shelves where he’s alone John takes out his latest prize, steals what money is inside, and then leaves the empty wallet on the shelf. Maybe the shopkeep will earn a few dollars when someone tries to purchase the wallet.
He looks up from placing the latest empty wallet to see someone at the end of the aisle. John grins his most charming grin and presses a finger to his lips.
“Just a little secret between us, yeah?”
—
The Fringes - A cw: possible discussion of child abuse may come up.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m a murderer.” John slams the binder close. It doesn’t take much more than a glance at the handwriting and the words to recognize his father’s messy scrawl. The water rises another inch around his ankles.
Another binder has more of the same. The repeated phrases of his childhood over and over again in his father’s handwriting. John can hear his voice in the back of his head. It doesn’t make him afraid. It makes him angry and guilty. The water still rises.
The next binder he finds with more of the same he holds between two fingers and with a muttered incantation sets it on fire. He watches it burn for a bit but the smoke that rises from the pages begins to form the words as well. Or maybe it's his mind that makes it up seeing words where there are none because of how deeply his father haunts him.
John curses and throws the binder into the water which now reaches the back of his calves. He sloshes towards the next desk but before he reaches it he lets out a yelp and jumps back. His father’s face staring at him from the water now. It glares at him before sinking under the water.
“Bloody hell.” He knows he’s in trouble now. The water surges higher and he turns another direction. He sees his own reflection in the glass window and a figure standing outside. Maybe he has a little luck after all.
John struggles through the water and bangs on the glass to get the person’s attention.
“Hey! Hey!” He shouts as he pounds his fist against the window. “Hey! Need some help here! The door’s bloody locked!”
He keeps pounding on the glass even though the water is rising around him. John tries not to feel the fear trickling at the back of his mind. He’s been afraid before. He can choke his fear down.
As long as the person on the other side of the glass fucking notices him!
—
Wildcard
Want something else with John? Feel free to find him stuck on the side of the road because he stalled his car or outside a building smoking. You can PM to work something out as well!
John Constantine | DCU | OTA
“Listen here you bloody wanker this!
The blond man shakes a thin manual in the face of the man who rescued him.
“Is not going to teach me how to drive this piece of junk!”
Now the manual gets waved towards the car that the blond man is standing next to. John Constantine has his signature tan trench coat and suit. He doesn’t look too injured given the situation but he looks very frustrated with the man.
Who doesn’t care. They shrug and say again he’ll get the hang of it with practice. Then he walks away leaving the Englishman fuming.
It looks like he’s going to throw the manual at the man. He even draws his arm back but John stops himself. He huffs, stops over to the car and sits on the hood. The manual gets slammed onto the windshield.
He pulls a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his trench coat along with a lighter. John takes a drag and lets the cigarette sit in the corner of his mouth. He sulks for a moment.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters and picks up the manual to start learning how to drive the car he’s now stuck with.
—
Panorama - The Pavillion
John weaves his way through the line. He’s got a toothpick to chew on satisfying that itch and distracting himself from craving a cigarette. He’s looked through the shelves and he doesn’t see a single pack. What he has on him is going to have to last until he manages to find a source for tobacco.
In the meantime he’s going to help himself to a few things from the folks waiting in line for other samples. Honestly, the alien eggs have been John’s favorite.
His hands are quick and light. Someone would have to be watching him closely to catch him slipping his fingers into the pocket of someone waiting, pluck their wallet and slide it into his pocket. Slight-of-hand magic comes in handy for more than just making cards disappear.
Once he finds a place between shelves where he’s alone John takes out his latest prize, steals what money is inside, and then leaves the empty wallet on the shelf. Maybe the shopkeep will earn a few dollars when someone tries to purchase the wallet.
He looks up from placing the latest empty wallet to see someone at the end of the aisle. John grins his most charming grin and presses a finger to his lips.
“Just a little secret between us, yeah?”
—
The Fringes - A cw: possible discussion of child abuse may come up.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m a murderer.” John slams the binder close. It doesn’t take much more than a glance at the handwriting and the words to recognize his father’s messy scrawl. The water rises another inch around his ankles.
Another binder has more of the same. The repeated phrases of his childhood over and over again in his father’s handwriting. John can hear his voice in the back of his head. It doesn’t make him afraid. It makes him angry and guilty. The water still rises.
The next binder he finds with more of the same he holds between two fingers and with a muttered incantation sets it on fire. He watches it burn for a bit but the smoke that rises from the pages begins to form the words as well. Or maybe it's his mind that makes it up seeing words where there are none because of how deeply his father haunts him.
John curses and throws the binder into the water which now reaches the back of his calves. He sloshes towards the next desk but before he reaches it he lets out a yelp and jumps back. His father’s face staring at him from the water now. It glares at him before sinking under the water.
“Bloody hell.” He knows he’s in trouble now. The water surges higher and he turns another direction. He sees his own reflection in the glass window and a figure standing outside. Maybe he has a little luck after all.
John struggles through the water and bangs on the glass to get the person’s attention.
“Hey! Hey!” He shouts as he pounds his fist against the window. “Hey! Need some help here! The door’s bloody locked!”
He keeps pounding on the glass even though the water is rising around him. John tries not to feel the fear trickling at the back of his mind. He’s been afraid before. He can choke his fear down.
As long as the person on the other side of the glass fucking notices him!
—
Wildcard
Want something else with John? Feel free to find him stuck on the side of the road because he stalled his car or outside a building smoking. You can PM to work something out as well!