[He'd honestly speak about it. While he holds a lot of secrets, Chas and how he lost his friendship with him is a long and painful story that's still fresh wounds to John. He didn't think it was worth going on about, not when he's trying to be the cheerful one in their decidedly undynamic duo.]
Tosser is an asshole, a big bastard of one, it's pretty high up there. I don't know about the status of his mother, so I'm not risking calling him a motherfucker. [The dead mom's club members tend to skip that one.] He's worlds above dickhead, the fancy fucker is so poised and firm and put together. Smart too. Makes me wanna punch him. [He thinks about this for a moment.] Alright. Let's start with stupid people insults. Or smart people doing stupid stuff, that works too. So in this catagory there's wankers and muppets and plonker and pillock. You can call someone daft too, or say they lost the plot. That works for crazy too. Blert gets used back home now, meff too but I've never really bothered with either of those too. Oh! Don't forget twit either. That's always a fun one.
[He takes another drink, slowly this time.] Alright, friend. Once you've taken all of that in, we can move on to crazy insults or just general asshole insults.
So he's not in the running for Upperclass Twit of the Year, then.
[Late night Monty Python reruns on PBS were some of the only British cred Ronstadt had going for him. Nana had been a big fan of the old Public Broadcasting System, but she'd been more about the period dramas and Masterpiece Theater.]
Blert sounds dumb, I can see why you don't use it. [he thinks back to a group of tourists he'd heard in line at his favorite churro stand, and realizes -] Hey, isn't there some word "neff", or "naff"? Seems too close for meff.
[That gets a good laugh from John, one he very much needed.] I think we should nominate him anyway. Send him a nice letter stating his place in the running. Besides, for being so damned smart he's probably made enough stupid choices to put him in the contest legitimately. There's a host of shitty costumed freaks still running around, after all.
[He nods in agreement with blert. It's just not his favorite at all.] Ah, naff. You can put it down to tacky or tasteless. Maybe unimpressive. Even if it's got more use than just that.
Maaaan, and I thought it was a compliment. I mean, she was grinning when she said it and everything. "Mate, your shirt is well naff." And she and her friend giggled, and I figured they were like, into me.
[Ronstadt snorts a laugh]
Guess I shouldn't have offered to pick up their churro tab.
It's not that bad coming from a bird. If a gay man says it to you? That's rough. You know you're beyond hope then.
[John didn't really fall well into any of the gay scenes, it's not that he didn't crave the kindship to some degree when he was young, but he was always so angry and so moved by other things. Mainly, magic and the punk scene as it slammed into life and left people in awe of the shameless energy.
And as a bisexual man, he didn't know if he was ever really allowed to be a part of it.
Yeah, they're pretty notoriously savage, especially here in L.A. I can't say I know too many of them personally, but that's mostly because I'm a sad excuse for a social being.
[he raised his glass to John]
If any gay guys came near me it'd probably be to give me and my apartment a makeover, you know? And no one is touching my hair, no matter how sweet they are to me.
You and me both. They're certainly not giving me a second look as a rule. I'm not polished enough for most of the ones I meet. Not hairy enough or thick enough for the ones that want bears. Certainly not fit for the ones that want queens either. I do well enough, but it's certainly easier to get myself a bird.
[He raises his glass as well, and clinks it gently against Ronstadt's.]
What, you wouldn't let me mess with your hair? I'm not gay, per say, but the sleeps with men business has to count for something. [He's obviously teasing, it's all in jest.]
Huh. So ... okay, I gotta admit, I've never had actual in-depth conversations with anyone who swung both ways. Can I ask you dumb questions?
[the question about his hair makes him laugh a little. he'd just scarcely found the right spell to grow back the bits Hattie cut out for her potion when he met John, so he was pretty self-conscious of that.]
Touch it, sure, but - no one cuts it unless they're like ... a qualified barber or something. Never again.
[as a show of good faith, he leans forward across the table and dips his head. there is a stunning lack of product in that blond mop. he's very fluffy.]
"His questions ARE pretty dumb."
[this from Monty as she comes back to top off his glass again]
[John's voice comes through warmly, absolutely sincere and honestly wanting to be helpful. He's at this perfect point for social talk and open to pretty much anything. So if Ronstadt has questions, John has answers.]
Sounds like a smart plan. Besides... [He eyes the hair a little.] It kind of does it's own thing. You might have to find a genius of hairdressing to get anywhere with it.
[Oh, oh, John can't resist. He runs his fingers through it fondly for a moment, feeling his heart slam in his chest. He feels like a fucking kid again, before everything was so painful and miserable. It's cute. This whole situation is cute and innocent in it's own strange way.
Oh, and then there's Monty.] I do too, so he's in good company. [John decides to make an order before she heads off.] Hey, luv, get me one of those Mai Tais too, will you? When it Rome, after all... [He pulls his fingers away, but the impact of being allowed touch still stands.]
[Monty grins once her back is turned to them. Normally, she'd give them a week. But Ronstadt's thick as a post. She bumps it out to a month or so.]
There's a chick in Encino that just kind of ... trims it here and there like a hedge. I don't know how she does it. Maybe she's magic too.
[Ronstadt leans his temple into John's hand for a fraction of an instant, and his first thought is that Faye hadn't even gotten the chance to do that. That makes his heart crack a little, one of the little fragments breaking free, and he closes his eyes until the twinge of pain is gone.]
Anything, huh? Okay. I guess I'll hit you with the big one first. How did you know you were a both sides kinda guy? And - okay, follow up. Did you like girls first, or guys?
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.
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Date: 2021-09-07 11:04 pm (UTC)Tosser is an asshole, a big bastard of one, it's pretty high up there. I don't know about the status of his mother, so I'm not risking calling him a motherfucker. [The dead mom's club members tend to skip that one.] He's worlds above dickhead, the fancy fucker is so poised and firm and put together. Smart too. Makes me wanna punch him. [He thinks about this for a moment.] Alright. Let's start with stupid people insults. Or smart people doing stupid stuff, that works too. So in this catagory there's wankers and muppets and plonker and pillock. You can call someone daft too, or say they lost the plot. That works for crazy too. Blert gets used back home now, meff too but I've never really bothered with either of those too. Oh! Don't forget twit either. That's always a fun one.
[He takes another drink, slowly this time.] Alright, friend. Once you've taken all of that in, we can move on to crazy insults or just general asshole insults.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-08 01:08 am (UTC)[Late night Monty Python reruns on PBS were some of the only British cred Ronstadt had going for him. Nana had been a big fan of the old Public Broadcasting System, but she'd been more about the period dramas and Masterpiece Theater.]
Blert sounds dumb, I can see why you don't use it. [he thinks back to a group of tourists he'd heard in line at his favorite churro stand, and realizes -] Hey, isn't there some word "neff", or "naff"? Seems too close for meff.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-10 08:17 pm (UTC)[He nods in agreement with blert. It's just not his favorite at all.] Ah, naff. You can put it down to tacky or tasteless. Maybe unimpressive. Even if it's got more use than just that.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-11 05:24 am (UTC)[his face falls, and he sighs into his Mai Tai]
Maaaan, and I thought it was a compliment. I mean, she was grinning when she said it and everything. "Mate, your shirt is well naff." And she and her friend giggled, and I figured they were like, into me.
[Ronstadt snorts a laugh]
Guess I shouldn't have offered to pick up their churro tab.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-12 03:04 am (UTC)[John didn't really fall well into any of the gay scenes, it's not that he didn't crave the kindship to some degree when he was young, but he was always so angry and so moved by other things. Mainly, magic and the punk scene as it slammed into life and left people in awe of the shameless energy.
And as a bisexual man, he didn't know if he was ever really allowed to be a part of it.
He still wonders sometimes, if he'd be allowed.]
no subject
Date: 2021-09-12 03:35 am (UTC)[he raised his glass to John]
If any gay guys came near me it'd probably be to give me and my apartment a makeover, you know? And no one is touching my hair, no matter how sweet they are to me.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-12 04:49 am (UTC)[He raises his glass as well, and clinks it gently against Ronstadt's.]
What, you wouldn't let me mess with your hair? I'm not gay, per say, but the sleeps with men business has to count for something. [He's obviously teasing, it's all in jest.]
super minor finale spoiler
Date: 2021-09-12 04:59 am (UTC)[the question about his hair makes him laugh a little. he'd just scarcely found the right spell to grow back the bits Hattie cut out for her potion when he met John, so he was pretty self-conscious of that.]
Touch it, sure, but - no one cuts it unless they're like ... a qualified barber or something. Never again.
[as a show of good faith, he leans forward across the table and dips his head. there is a stunning lack of product in that blond mop. he's very fluffy.]
"His questions ARE pretty dumb."
[this from Monty as she comes back to top off his glass again]
no subject
Date: 2021-09-12 05:14 am (UTC)[John's voice comes through warmly, absolutely sincere and honestly wanting to be helpful. He's at this perfect point for social talk and open to pretty much anything. So if Ronstadt has questions, John has answers.]
Sounds like a smart plan. Besides... [He eyes the hair a little.] It kind of does it's own thing. You might have to find a genius of hairdressing to get anywhere with it.
[Oh, oh, John can't resist. He runs his fingers through it fondly for a moment, feeling his heart slam in his chest. He feels like a fucking kid again, before everything was so painful and miserable. It's cute. This whole situation is cute and innocent in it's own strange way.
Oh, and then there's Monty.] I do too, so he's in good company. [John decides to make an order before she heads off.] Hey, luv, get me one of those Mai Tais too, will you? When it Rome, after all... [He pulls his fingers away, but the impact of being allowed touch still stands.]
no subject
Date: 2021-09-12 05:30 am (UTC)[Monty grins once her back is turned to them. Normally, she'd give them a week. But Ronstadt's thick as a post. She bumps it out to a month or so.]
There's a chick in Encino that just kind of ... trims it here and there like a hedge. I don't know how she does it. Maybe she's magic too.
[Ronstadt leans his temple into John's hand for a fraction of an instant, and his first thought is that Faye hadn't even gotten the chance to do that. That makes his heart crack a little, one of the little fragments breaking free, and he closes his eyes until the twinge of pain is gone.]
Anything, huh? Okay. I guess I'll hit you with the big one first. How did you know you were a both sides kinda guy? And - okay, follow up. Did you like girls first, or guys?
no subject
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.]
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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From:/shamelessly steals local used vinyl store
From:As you should!
From: