Thanks, luv. [He nods in appreciation as she leaves.
He's still way more focused on Ronstadt, though. Especially how he leans in, just a bit, and John doesn't want to dwell too much on it but damn it feels good. But then the question hits and it's easy to answer. Easy to focus on that.]
So one of my friends, way back when, used to practice kissing with me. Just for the birds, of course. We didn't want to look like we didn't know how to handle ourselves. But I liked it a bit much, if you know what I mean. [He smiles, fondly. He misses those days, sometimes. He never had an easy life, but in what counted for his halcyon days, it was so much simpler than now.] I had a bird pretty fast, but I'd keep meeting up with a mate and we'd bang on the weekends. Didn't even see it as serious, he said it didn't count. [It counted to John, though.] You know, that it wasn't cheating because we were both boys. And for a lot of them, it was just a way to get their rocks off. [He tilts his head, thinking of how to word things.] She was sweet. Too good for me. Really liked her. But I felt the same way about the friends I was fucking too. That kind of solidified it for me.
[he listens, curious. practicing kissing with guys. shit, maybe that's why he felt so awkward with Faye. no practice. at least, no memories of practice. John Hughes probably directed what he thinks was his first kiss, he thinks bitterly. He has zero poker face in that moment, and his eyes go slack with yearning envy for another man's memories. That was one gift Faye gave him, at least. He can never completely hate her, because of it. Or can he? Would he have been perfectly happy not knowing his past was a kaleidoscope of pop culture?
Monty sets down Constantine's mai tai, sees the look in his eyes, and takes Ronstadt's half-empty one, deciding to throw the poor guy a bone. She knows a break-up chat when she sees one, and she also knew he'd been glued to that phone even when he'd walked in the door. Poor guy.]
Thanks, Monty. ...
[Ronstadt tries to rally, find a way to continue the conversation without burdening Constantine with even more of his problems. He has to at least try. He'll give him the bullshit memory, see if he notices.]
My first kiss ... definitely with a girl. She was a total jerk to me, but ... she was so pretty I didn't care. It was ridiculous: her wish was my command, pretty much. But finally one day I think it hit her that I liked her. There was this gorgeous sunset, you know? Picture perfect. And she just walked up to me and planted one on me. And - you know how there are all those movies and books and stuff about perfect first kisses? That one blew 'em all away.
And he sees the envy, and he genuinely wonders if this man has never been kissed before. Or maybe he's a virgin. Maybe that's why that expression crossed his face. John is almost ready to laugh, to clasp him on the arm and tell him that the sex was so shitty that he might as well have not been having it, but then he gets something from Ronstadt that stops him.
He can't help but to listen. And his eyebrow slowly raises higher and higher as the description of the 'memory' continues.] Is that so? [He swears he's seen this scene in a cheesy eighties flick before.] Sounds like something straight from the movies. Must have been fantastic. Was Take My Breath Away playing in the background? [He takes a long drink of the Mai Tai, and then blinks at it. Holy shit, the thing is sweet and doesn't taste alcoholic at all. Dangerous stuff.
He turns back to Ronstadt after that, softer in his expression.] You don't have to lie to me. If it was bad, it was bad. I've had some god-awful kisses. One of them bad enough that I needed stitches. There's no need to glorify things.
[He was expecting to have the wind drawn out of his sails, so he just sinks slowly back into the booth and lets it happen, reaching up and raking a hand back through his hair.]
No Berlin, no, but it was something about storybooks. Jesus. Okay, I - I need to level with you. On something big. Something I wouldn't have even realized if Faye hadn't wanted to try and really get to know me. You're the only other person who knows this. Or is about to.
[Ronstadt shifts a little in the booth. He waits for Monty to come back with his own Mai Tai, gives her a smile and a salute - their little signal that he's OK - and takes a slower, more controlled sip. His gaze lingers on the cherry for a moment, then he leans across the table again, lowering his voice.]
I don't remember most of my life. The only things I know are real are the stuff right before I discovered my power. ... Everything else? Movies. TV shows. Yogurt commercials. All fake. And I've got no idea why.
[When Ronstadt says that he needs to level with him, when he brings up how serious it is, John's whole focus goes to him. He leans in, waiting until Monty leaves again before speaking.] I'm listening. [Not the most brilliant or comforting answer, but it's the truth. He's here and he's listening and it's obvious that whatever happens he's wanting to help and has no intention of mocking him.
But what he says, low and quiet, rocks John a bit. There are quite a few spells that affect memory. But very few that would replace all of them entirely. Amnesia could take a lot from a person, but with the timing? This all but advertises that dark magic was involved in the act.] Bloody hell. How did you find out that it was all fake? What gave it away?
[Sometimes relief is so strong it barely feels like anything at all, like ears popping and your equilibrium coming back. A change so subtle, yet all-important. It feels like that to Ronstadt now, the way Constantine is simply ... listening, believing him, not instantly probing him for proof or details or calling him full of shit.]
We were at a party my friend Vez's family was having. He showed us his workshop garage, and then left us alone, trying to be a wingman, I guess. Faye started asking me questions about my life, trying to get to know me. What my parents were like, how it was growing up outside L.A., what I did for summers between school. After maybe ten minutes she got real pale and said it was really pissing her off that I'd treat her like that. I didn't get it. I really didn't get it. When she realized I really didn't know why she was so pissed, she brought me back to her apartment and pulled up YouTube. My horrible Christmas vacation really belonged to some blonde kid in a movie called Home Alone. Senior year? Another movie. Ferris Bueller's Day Off. THe way I described my grade school lunchroom was a commercial. My classmates were allegedly Teen Wolf and Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I didn't know any of that because I'd never seen any of those things in my life. I honestly thought they were mine.
{he takes the cherry out of his Mai Tai and lets it dangle by the stem between his fingers, watching it catch the light]
The only thing I'm even a little certain is real is the ice cream stand where I worked when my powers kicked in. Nana's Super Splits. And now I'm so messed up about all of this that I don't even know if she was real. ... You ever heard of anything where there's a little old lady allergic to maraschino cherry preservatives?
[John is honestly disturbed. This sounds like the most horrific parts of magic, something that can leave a person entirely fucked over and broken. What could possibly cause someone to rewrite Ronstadt's life? And so damn carelessly?
Someone really wanted Rosntadt's past to die. And they didn't care how sloppily they had to cobble together a new one for him.
But...
Why wouldn't they just kill him if he was that big of a concern? That's just as shocking as the memories being falsified with nostalgia entertainment.]
Christ. [He looks genuinely concerned. He wonders if part of the reason things ended up so badly with Faye is what happened with the false memories that day. She probably thinks that Ronstadt is disturbed. And maybe he is. It's hard not to be, to some degree, when dealing with their line of work.] Well, there's only one way to find out about Nana. Where was she located? That makes things a lot easier for me. [He's googling it on his phone already.]
[John's brows furrow. He doesn't like how familiar the town name sounds, just off the top of his head. But he's pleasantly surprised for a moment. The basic search shows that indeed, it's a real place. It's real! It's truly real!
But despite seeing pictures of the place, and browsing through the official town website, something still feels off. And that something is wearing away at him, making him wonder if he should trust the site and if he should go further with the search.
John doesn't want to. He wants to leave it be. But he doesn't.
A further google shows him that this too is potentially pop culture. Literally everything about Ronstadt comes from fiction of some kind. And it's breaking John's heart in a way that almost angers him.
He's in too deep, with someone with serious problems. But then again, no one is a problem like John Constantine is a problem. So they can be walking issues together.] Hemingford Nebraska is a real place. [He purses his lips, uncomfortable.] But Hemingford Home, Nebraska is fictional. Suppose we'll have to do a little more research.
[Ronstadt throws his head back so fast and so hard that he clocks it on the back of the booth with a solid thwack. Only the thatch of electrified linguine keeps him from making himself see stars]
Sonovabitch...!
[He reaches back, feeling the back of his head for a wet patch the way most do after a hefty crack to the braincase.]
...Well, they say bad things come in threes. No girlfriend, no real hometown, and now this.
[John checks the back of Ronstadt's head too, although he doesn't think it's too bad. Feels alright, but that combined with a large amount of alcohol means that John's not letting him go home alone tonight.]
You've got a home town. It might not be the place you thought, but you have one none the less. The city of angels where you belong. You're one of her people, after all. [He thinks that Ronstadt would be high on Angela's favored list. Not that he wants to think about her at all right now. Perhaps not ever.] You might not have a girlfriend but you're certainly not alone. Birds can be found just about anywhere, that'll get sorted out in time. [John selfishly hopes not.] And that hit to the head just landed you with supervision for the evening.
[Maybe it's the knock on the head. Maybe it's the half dozen Mai Tais. Maybe it's just Ronstadt's absolute and total, consuming yearning to belong, to know himself and know that there's a Place For Him in the universe. But it's almost like Constantine knows exactly what Ronstadt needed to hear. He manages a smile that's pained in a few ways, but genuine nonetheless]
Thanks.
Supervision, though? Hope you're cool with crashing on my floor. Or maybe Gus has a cheap air mattress in the garage.
Yes, supervision. I'm lacking in decent companionship. And between the booze and the knock you just got? I'd rather not risk losing you over something so stupid. Besides, I'm broke and can't afford to pay for your burial.
[The tone is light, he's joking. But he's serious about how much he cares for Ronstadt. Ronstadt is his friend, and is already incredibly important to him. And if he loses him? There's no one really left for John.] I can assure you that I've slept in far less comfortable places. Usually far drunker than this too.
You could just torch me and toss me in the ocean, I guess, if it really came right down to it. I never thought about that stuff before.
Now that I'm in this line of work, though ... maybe I should.
[He drags his hands over his face]
But yeah, if you wanna come crash at my pad, I can at least show you those crazy tapes Hattie gave me. The Side B magic for dummies stuff I mentioned the other day. You might get a kick out of 'em. We can call up an Uber Eats. What're you feeling? Chinese? Mexican? Thai? ... Italian?
Enough of that for now. You're staying in one piece if I have anything to say about it.
[John wants to distract Ronstadt from anything dark at this point. Even if, yes, it's a good idea to think about what you want after death in this line of work, John doesn't want to think about it at all. John can't handle it, his heart can't take the idea of Ronstadt dying.
And the urge to run hits again. It's so easy to be a coward, to just get out before it's too deep and before he has a chance to fuck something up or get someone caught up in something bigger. Side B is a trip and it's got a hell of a lot of dangers to it. But the American scene is just one piece of the puzzle. And what chases John is eternal.
But John's selfishness wins. He likes Ronstadt, incredibly. And he won't walk away just to protect either of them when he wants him so badly.]
Sounds like a plan. [He can't imagine what the Side B for dummies would be like, if it's a literal take on the series or a silly mockery thereof or just someone delightfully dumbing down the supernatural for a new player in a very dangerous game. Either way, take out sounds delightful.] Let's do Chinese. Haven't had it since I was last in London.
[The juxtaposition of the two concepts makes him laugh, bright and genuine and sharp]
Lemme guess. Big dish of beef chow mein?
[He hoped John had listened to Warren Zevon at least once in his life, or he was going to look like even more of the giant dork he was. Then again, if he hadn't, there was a reason Ronstadt had a slightly bitchin' record collection.]
How'd you get here? You drive, or are we taking the train?
[John's face is lacking any sign of recognition at first. If he gets the reference, which he does, it doesn't show in the least.]
I'd much rather get some crispy duck or house fried rice. [He pushes himself to his feet, and stretches. He came via portal but they'd best just take the train.] Let's go for the train after I settle the tab. [He tilts his head, a little sheepish for a moment.] I've been told I'm not to be trusted behind the wheel. [No license, no skills, rarely remembers the right side of the street to go on here.] Besides, heard a rumor about lycanthropes attacking old ladies locally. Maybe we'll see one on the way. [There's a smile then, he can't help himself. Of course he's heard that song!]
You want house fried rice, I know the perfect place to call out.
[he hoists his drink and downs the last of it, totally done with the concept of getting sauced over a breakup, at this point. now it's much more about spending some quality chill time with a new friend. much, much better option.]
Train it is, we'll just be careful when we go past the tailor. Need me to slip you my spare card or you got some magic trick for the fare?
[He may want to see how long they can make this joke last]
[John doesn't even care about finishing his drink, isn't thinking of anything like that. Ronstadt is officially more interesting to him than getting drunk, and he's pretty committed to alcohol and his imbibement.]
Oh, I've got a trick up my sleeve. [He goes over to pay off the tab, and there's something this time that feels good about spending the money here. This is a place special to Ronstadt, and in that sense he wants to be honest here and not cheat them. A bigger place? Sure. They'd be swiping a fake card. He pays cash for both of them though.
And it's nearly the last of what he has in pocket money.] Well, you ready?
Is that so? [It'd probably be far less impressive to the two of them if they knew that he had a bad habit of cheating at gambling and swindles demons that he summons for that purpose on the regular. He hasn't had a day of honest work in his adult life. It was either his shitty band attempt, gambling, or theft. His magic habits are expensive, and a day job doesn't exactly make for the needed amounts of time and money to fuel the obsession.
It's paid off though. And now, Ronstadt is paid off.] Luv, next time you won't be so happy to see me. I wear out my welcome fast. [He grins at Monty as they head out, and honestly he's glad that he visited. This is one hell of a place, and the environment is one that he wants to experience again.
Once out of the bar, he has to get in at least one more reference.] Well, it's no Trader Vic's but I think it's worth a return visit.
[he grins, throwing an arm around Constantine's shoulders. it's partly for balance, but mostly camaraderie as they plod toward the subway station. he hasn't done the drunken buddy shuffle, as far as he knows, and it seems like an opportunity he should take. he feels like he should sing.]
[It's been so long since he's enjoyed friendly drunken shenanigans with anyone. And while he's not entirely plastered, he's drunk enough to be loose and socially lubricated, mood easy now that Ronstadt isn't misery drinking.]
Werewolves of London! Ah-wooooooo! [His voice has really improved over the years. Mucus membrane had no hope, between shitty gigs and a lack of proper practice. And he doesn't think he could handle that life now. Not after all he's seen, all the magic and death and blood and darkness. But his love of music never died. And he never stopped singing.] Hey, mate, you into punk at all?
[Ronstadt gives a little toss of his wild hair and laughs]
You kidding me? I think one of the first vinyls I bought along with my used record player after I got my apartment was Brain Drain by the Ramones.
[Faye had done punk, too, but for someone so recently single, somehow she doesn't even cross his mind. He's having too much fun to mope. And even so, Dot Polka hadn't actually been ... all that great, in retrospect. Average.]
[There's only so many lyrics to the song, and John is way more focused on other things now. Mainly, punk music. It's still his favorite after all these years, he's moved on to many other genres but he'll never stop loving the music that made him want to be a star.] Fantastic album. Bloody underrated too. The Ramones were so damn good but I was always more for the Pistols. Some days I still think about getting some lyrics on me in ink. Never will, but it's always on the backburner you know? Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols is still pretty much my gold standard for listening.
[It's like the air around him is electrified now, warm and crisp, magic seeping out from a lack of control and exuberant energy.] Mate, tell me more songs you like. I wanna talk music with you all night.
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Date: 2021-09-12 05:46 am (UTC)He's still way more focused on Ronstadt, though. Especially how he leans in, just a bit, and John doesn't want to dwell too much on it but damn it feels good. But then the question hits and it's easy to answer. Easy to focus on that.]
So one of my friends, way back when, used to practice kissing with me. Just for the birds, of course. We didn't want to look like we didn't know how to handle ourselves. But I liked it a bit much, if you know what I mean. [He smiles, fondly. He misses those days, sometimes. He never had an easy life, but in what counted for his halcyon days, it was so much simpler than now.] I had a bird pretty fast, but I'd keep meeting up with a mate and we'd bang on the weekends. Didn't even see it as serious, he said it didn't count. [It counted to John, though.] You know, that it wasn't cheating because we were both boys. And for a lot of them, it was just a way to get their rocks off. [He tilts his head, thinking of how to word things.] She was sweet. Too good for me. Really liked her. But I felt the same way about the friends I was fucking too. That kind of solidified it for me.
this fake Ronstadt memory guest narrated by Peter Falk
Date: 2021-09-12 05:58 am (UTC)Monty sets down Constantine's mai tai, sees the look in his eyes, and takes Ronstadt's half-empty one, deciding to throw the poor guy a bone. She knows a break-up chat when she sees one, and she also knew he'd been glued to that phone even when he'd walked in the door. Poor guy.]
Thanks, Monty. ...
[Ronstadt tries to rally, find a way to continue the conversation without burdening Constantine with even more of his problems. He has to at least try. He'll give him the bullshit memory, see if he notices.]
My first kiss ... definitely with a girl. She was a total jerk to me, but ... she was so pretty I didn't care. It was ridiculous: her wish was my command, pretty much. But finally one day I think it hit her that I liked her. There was this gorgeous sunset, you know? Picture perfect. And she just walked up to me and planted one on me. And - you know how there are all those movies and books and stuff about perfect first kisses? That one blew 'em all away.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-12 06:12 am (UTC)And he sees the envy, and he genuinely wonders if this man has never been kissed before. Or maybe he's a virgin. Maybe that's why that expression crossed his face. John is almost ready to laugh, to clasp him on the arm and tell him that the sex was so shitty that he might as well have not been having it, but then he gets something from Ronstadt that stops him.
He can't help but to listen. And his eyebrow slowly raises higher and higher as the description of the 'memory' continues.] Is that so? [He swears he's seen this scene in a cheesy eighties flick before.] Sounds like something straight from the movies. Must have been fantastic. Was Take My Breath Away playing in the background? [He takes a long drink of the Mai Tai, and then blinks at it. Holy shit, the thing is sweet and doesn't taste alcoholic at all. Dangerous stuff.
He turns back to Ronstadt after that, softer in his expression.] You don't have to lie to me. If it was bad, it was bad. I've had some god-awful kisses. One of them bad enough that I needed stitches. There's no need to glorify things.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-12 06:19 am (UTC)No Berlin, no, but it was something about storybooks. Jesus. Okay, I - I need to level with you. On something big. Something I wouldn't have even realized if Faye hadn't wanted to try and really get to know me. You're the only other person who knows this. Or is about to.
[Ronstadt shifts a little in the booth. He waits for Monty to come back with his own Mai Tai, gives her a smile and a salute - their little signal that he's OK - and takes a slower, more controlled sip. His gaze lingers on the cherry for a moment, then he leans across the table again, lowering his voice.]
I don't remember most of my life. The only things I know are real are the stuff right before I discovered my power. ... Everything else? Movies. TV shows. Yogurt commercials. All fake. And I've got no idea why.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-12 06:37 am (UTC)But what he says, low and quiet, rocks John a bit. There are quite a few spells that affect memory. But very few that would replace all of them entirely. Amnesia could take a lot from a person, but with the timing? This all but advertises that dark magic was involved in the act.] Bloody hell. How did you find out that it was all fake? What gave it away?
no subject
Date: 2021-09-16 05:05 am (UTC)We were at a party my friend Vez's family was having. He showed us his workshop garage, and then left us alone, trying to be a wingman, I guess. Faye started asking me questions about my life, trying to get to know me. What my parents were like, how it was growing up outside L.A., what I did for summers between school. After maybe ten minutes she got real pale and said it was really pissing her off that I'd treat her like that. I didn't get it. I really didn't get it. When she realized I really didn't know why she was so pissed, she brought me back to her apartment and pulled up YouTube. My horrible Christmas vacation really belonged to some blonde kid in a movie called Home Alone. Senior year? Another movie. Ferris Bueller's Day Off. THe way I described my grade school lunchroom was a commercial. My classmates were allegedly Teen Wolf and Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I didn't know any of that because I'd never seen any of those things in my life. I honestly thought they were mine.
{he takes the cherry out of his Mai Tai and lets it dangle by the stem between his fingers, watching it catch the light]
The only thing I'm even a little certain is real is the ice cream stand where I worked when my powers kicked in. Nana's Super Splits. And now I'm so messed up about all of this that I don't even know if she was real. ... You ever heard of anything where there's a little old lady allergic to maraschino cherry preservatives?
no subject
Date: 2021-09-16 05:28 am (UTC)Someone really wanted Rosntadt's past to die. And they didn't care how sloppily they had to cobble together a new one for him.
But...
Why wouldn't they just kill him if he was that big of a concern? That's just as shocking as the memories being falsified with nostalgia entertainment.]
Christ. [He looks genuinely concerned. He wonders if part of the reason things ended up so badly with Faye is what happened with the false memories that day. She probably thinks that Ronstadt is disturbed. And maybe he is. It's hard not to be, to some degree, when dealing with their line of work.] Well, there's only one way to find out about Nana. Where was she located? That makes things a lot easier for me. [He's googling it on his phone already.]
no subject
Date: 2021-09-16 05:43 am (UTC)[Even as he says it, and knows it's true, he feels odd. Like that's a name that is linked to something else. but something good.]
Hemingford, Nebraska. Lots of farmland, really ... picture postcard stuff.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-17 02:20 am (UTC)But despite seeing pictures of the place, and browsing through the official town website, something still feels off. And that something is wearing away at him, making him wonder if he should trust the site and if he should go further with the search.
John doesn't want to. He wants to leave it be. But he doesn't.
A further google shows him that this too is potentially pop culture. Literally everything about Ronstadt comes from fiction of some kind. And it's breaking John's heart in a way that almost angers him.
He's in too deep, with someone with serious problems. But then again, no one is a problem like John Constantine is a problem. So they can be walking issues together.] Hemingford Nebraska is a real place. [He purses his lips, uncomfortable.] But Hemingford Home, Nebraska is fictional. Suppose we'll have to do a little more research.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-18 05:34 am (UTC)[Ronstadt throws his head back so fast and so hard that he clocks it on the back of the booth with a solid thwack. Only the thatch of electrified linguine keeps him from making himself see stars]
Sonovabitch...!
[He reaches back, feeling the back of his head for a wet patch the way most do after a hefty crack to the braincase.]
...Well, they say bad things come in threes. No girlfriend, no real hometown, and now this.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-18 03:57 pm (UTC)[John checks the back of Ronstadt's head too, although he doesn't think it's too bad. Feels alright, but that combined with a large amount of alcohol means that John's not letting him go home alone tonight.]
You've got a home town. It might not be the place you thought, but you have one none the less. The city of angels where you belong. You're one of her people, after all. [He thinks that Ronstadt would be high on Angela's favored list. Not that he wants to think about her at all right now. Perhaps not ever.] You might not have a girlfriend but you're certainly not alone. Birds can be found just about anywhere, that'll get sorted out in time. [John selfishly hopes not.] And that hit to the head just landed you with supervision for the evening.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-22 07:26 pm (UTC)Thanks.
Supervision, though? Hope you're cool with crashing on my floor. Or maybe Gus has a cheap air mattress in the garage.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-22 07:32 pm (UTC)[The tone is light, he's joking. But he's serious about how much he cares for Ronstadt. Ronstadt is his friend, and is already incredibly important to him. And if he loses him? There's no one really left for John.] I can assure you that I've slept in far less comfortable places. Usually far drunker than this too.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-22 08:51 pm (UTC)Now that I'm in this line of work, though ... maybe I should.
[He drags his hands over his face]
But yeah, if you wanna come crash at my pad, I can at least show you those crazy tapes Hattie gave me. The Side B magic for dummies stuff I mentioned the other day. You might get a kick out of 'em. We can call up an Uber Eats. What're you feeling? Chinese? Mexican? Thai? ... Italian?
no subject
Date: 2021-09-22 09:28 pm (UTC)[John wants to distract Ronstadt from anything dark at this point. Even if, yes, it's a good idea to think about what you want after death in this line of work, John doesn't want to think about it at all. John can't handle it, his heart can't take the idea of Ronstadt dying.
And the urge to run hits again. It's so easy to be a coward, to just get out before it's too deep and before he has a chance to fuck something up or get someone caught up in something bigger. Side B is a trip and it's got a hell of a lot of dangers to it. But the American scene is just one piece of the puzzle. And what chases John is eternal.
But John's selfishness wins. He likes Ronstadt, incredibly. And he won't walk away just to protect either of them when he wants him so badly.]
Sounds like a plan. [He can't imagine what the Side B for dummies would be like, if it's a literal take on the series or a silly mockery thereof or just someone delightfully dumbing down the supernatural for a new player in a very dangerous game. Either way, take out sounds delightful.] Let's do Chinese. Haven't had it since I was last in London.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-23 03:25 pm (UTC)Lemme guess. Big dish of beef chow mein?
[He hoped John had listened to Warren Zevon at least once in his life, or he was going to look like even more of the giant dork he was. Then again, if he hadn't, there was a reason Ronstadt had a slightly bitchin' record collection.]
How'd you get here? You drive, or are we taking the train?
no subject
Date: 2021-09-23 06:27 pm (UTC)I'd much rather get some crispy duck or house fried rice. [He pushes himself to his feet, and stretches. He came via portal but they'd best just take the train.] Let's go for the train after I settle the tab. [He tilts his head, a little sheepish for a moment.] I've been told I'm not to be trusted behind the wheel. [No license, no skills, rarely remembers the right side of the street to go on here.] Besides, heard a rumor about lycanthropes attacking old ladies locally. Maybe we'll see one on the way. [There's a smile then, he can't help himself. Of course he's heard that song!]
no subject
Date: 2021-09-23 08:31 pm (UTC)[he hoists his drink and downs the last of it, totally done with the concept of getting sauced over a breakup, at this point. now it's much more about spending some quality chill time with a new friend. much, much better option.]
Train it is, we'll just be careful when we go past the tailor. Need me to slip you my spare card or you got some magic trick for the fare?
[He may want to see how long they can make this joke last]
no subject
Date: 2021-09-23 10:18 pm (UTC)[John doesn't even care about finishing his drink, isn't thinking of anything like that. Ronstadt is officially more interesting to him than getting drunk, and he's pretty committed to alcohol and his imbibement.]
Oh, I've got a trick up my sleeve. [He goes over to pay off the tab, and there's something this time that feels good about spending the money here. This is a place special to Ronstadt, and in that sense he wants to be honest here and not cheat them. A bigger place? Sure. They'd be swiping a fake card. He pays cash for both of them though.
And it's nearly the last of what he has in pocket money.] Well, you ready?
no subject
Date: 2021-09-23 11:24 pm (UTC)[he's still grinning, slurring just a bit as they head to the bar, and it's hard to say whose jaw drops more at the wad of cash: Monty or Ronstadt.]
"Sheez, Ronstadt, where you been hiding this guy?"
Hey. Good magicians never tell their secrets, Monty. ... Thanks again.
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Date: 2021-09-24 12:06 am (UTC)It's paid off though. And now, Ronstadt is paid off.] Luv, next time you won't be so happy to see me. I wear out my welcome fast. [He grins at Monty as they head out, and honestly he's glad that he visited. This is one hell of a place, and the environment is one that he wants to experience again.
Once out of the bar, he has to get in at least one more reference.] Well, it's no Trader Vic's but I think it's worth a return visit.
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Date: 2021-09-24 01:34 am (UTC)[he grins, throwing an arm around Constantine's shoulders. it's partly for balance, but mostly camaraderie as they plod toward the subway station. he hasn't done the drunken buddy shuffle, as far as he knows, and it seems like an opportunity he should take. he feels like he should sing.]
Ah-woooooooooo~!
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Date: 2021-09-24 02:29 am (UTC)Werewolves of London! Ah-wooooooo! [His voice has really improved over the years. Mucus membrane had no hope, between shitty gigs and a lack of proper practice. And he doesn't think he could handle that life now. Not after all he's seen, all the magic and death and blood and darkness. But his love of music never died. And he never stopped singing.] Hey, mate, you into punk at all?
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Date: 2021-09-24 05:12 pm (UTC)[Ronstadt gives a little toss of his wild hair and laughs]
You kidding me? I think one of the first vinyls I bought along with my used record player after I got my apartment was Brain Drain by the Ramones.
[Faye had done punk, too, but for someone so recently single, somehow she doesn't even cross his mind. He's having too much fun to mope. And even so, Dot Polka hadn't actually been ... all that great, in retrospect. Average.]
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Date: 2021-09-25 01:48 am (UTC)[It's like the air around him is electrified now, warm and crisp, magic seeping out from a lack of control and exuberant energy.] Mate, tell me more songs you like. I wanna talk music with you all night.
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From:/shamelessly steals local used vinyl store
From:As you should!
From: