There is a bunch of shit lying around. I mean, it's shit that has a purpose -- supposedly -- but it's mostly stuff that Zed either: doesn't know about, doesn't care to know about, or doesn't care about. Look, she's just the resident psychic, all the artifacts are not her bag.
So, when she's looking for a space to settle down for a bit and draw with her sketchpad and charcoal pencils, she winds up pushing a bunch of aforementioned shit where it was on a chair, where it unceremoniously clatters to the floor. And then she sits on the chair, her legs draped over one of the armrest. Such classy. Very wow.
The clattering immediately draws both his ire and his presence, and he immediately goes to the books and artifacts that now grace the carpet, scooping them up with care.
"For fuck's sake, love, you've gotta be careful with this shit. If you don't want to wind up as some sob story I tell the next lot, then don't fucking shove shite where it don't belong!"
He sorts through the stack, making sure nothing is out of place or looking particularly evil...today. He then drops the entire stack on the nearest table.
"Says the one who...put the stuff on the chair." Said with an added gesture to all of the shelves (the full shelves) and table space (not much) around, and a quirked eyebrow. "What even was all of that?"
Constantine sighs, and reaches for the top of the stack, presenting the tome as if it were the subject of a lecture (it was). "This, love, is the Oera Linda Book, the real one. Lots of powerful rituals in here, even some stuff from Atlantis itself. For example," He flips through the book, searing for and stopping on a real whopper of a spell. "Peasant's Pleasure, or How To Turn Everything In A 20 Meter Radius Into Pottage. You really must be more careful with these kinds of things." With that, he snaps the book shut and tosses it back onto the stack.
"Atlantis, wow, like mermaids and stuff?" She might be slightly trying to mess with him. Slightly. (Spoilers: A lot. Not slightly, but a lot.) "Anyway, I can do that spell." A pause for some bullshit dramatic effect or whatever. "By punching someone a lot."
He nods the nod of a man who doesn't agree at all. "Welp, you let me know how that works out against your next terror of the dark, I might even add it to my repitoire of darkest majicks!" He spins around, waving his hands in the air, before dropping that silly shit and pulling out a pack of cigs. There's only so much bullshit he can take before needing a light, and that threshold continues to be Very Low>
"I will, thanks." Said with a snort. "If it works, maybe you can sell half this stuff on ebay and make a killing since it would be useless." Now she's just running with it. (Constantly giving him a headache since day one, yep.) Anyway, now that she's been mostly distracted from her plans to draw, she sets her artist's tools aside and goes to break open a bottle of The Good Shit, pouring herself a generous serving.
Having started once again on his favorite pastime (puffing smoke like a London steamer), Constantine paces around the room, trailing a cloud behind him as he walks. As he travels around the room, he adjusts books, straightens tools, and generally fidgets with the various things around the room in an attempt to look proper and busy.
She meanders towards the other side of the room, her drink still in hand, as she takes a look around. There are some doors and artifacts she hasn't explored here yet, so when she starts to go down a hallway, she finds a door, and carefully steps inside. It, too, is filled with A Lot Of Shit, and her attention is drawn to one item in particular, decently sized. It's small enough she can pick it up, but big enough for it to be a little bit awkward.
He pokes his head into the room, taking hard look at what she's holding before chuckling and removing his cigarette to tap off the burnt end. "For fucks sake, love, if you're randy to get in trouble, you've gotta do better than an Aether Vial. Ever since Pereplut was killed in the 80's that thing's been as useful as tits on a bull! Now, if you'd be so kind, please bugger off and get shitfaced somewhere that doesn't involve worldly powers beyond your understanding. I don't exactly have another magical psychic artist just lying around to replace you."
She puts the thing back on the shelf. "I'm just the psychic artist." As in, not magical. "But okay, okay, fine, I'll go get shitfaced without cool things to poke around at the same time."
And then A Thought. "So if it was the 80s, did this person wear MC Hammer pants?" Ba dum tssh.
He grins, totally obviously amused by her joke. "Oh yeah, yeah, the 80's, yeah, totally wore pants she did, especially because she was a fucking drinking goddess in the bloody actual 80's AD! Now please, kindly move your toff arse somewhere else before you start a bloody apocalypse."
With that, he places a hand on her shoulder, firmly pressing her towards the door.
"So, your patron saint." Ha ha. She's so funny. Anyway, she trots off to go find REAL FRIENDS, god, so rude. Heh. Which finds her outside, as she its on the stairs enjoying her drink. Several minutes later, a cute kitten eventually wanders over into the yard, meowing at her, and seems very interested in her presence. She sets the nearly empty glass aside, and the kitten hops up the stairs to her, trying to climb in her lap.
AW.
She gently scoops the kitten up and walks back inside, leaving her glass outside.
Upon seeing the kitten, Constantine immediately grabs both a jar from a nearby bench, and the kitten from Zed's hands. Having stuffed the kitten in the jar and tightened the lid, he rips off a series of enchantments, ignoring her until he finishes.
He rolls his eyes, sighing in exasperation before muttering another quick spell in the direction of the jar. He then places it on the floor, and begins sketching out various diagrams on the surface around it with the ever present chalk in his pocket.
After he finishes, he straightens up and looks her in the eye with a steely gaze. "Do you mind telling me exactly what made you think that was a bloody good idea?"
"Um. I found a kitten, obviously. And was going to give it some milk and food, and a warm cat bed. Probably a box lid with a blanket in it." Because cats, man. Cats.
"So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do that." She starts to pick up the jar with one probably terrified kitten inside it.
Of course, the newly formed forcefield prevents her from reaching the jar, gently pushing her hand away. He walks up behind her, arms crossed, his face focused. "Oh yes, please release the creature that's already made it past the house's strongest defenses and endeared itself to you. Not to mention how it just so happens to show up when you got outside for a spot of tea, making itself nice and lovable and just needing to be taken in. Now, if this was some fucking townhouse in coal country, I wouldn't mind. But have you already forgotten where we are? What we're up against? The Rising Darkness can appear in any shape or form! That's why I'm getting rid of it ASAP."
Hrmph. That force field was unexpected. "Wow. You must be a real hit at parties, especially with the ladies." Said in a very dry, sarcastic tone. No, she really doesn't need any details on that.
Please don't try to play 'dry' or 'sarcastic' with a Brit. It never ends well, I promise. He leans in close, voice lowered. "Yes, well, I don't have to have this level of caution at parties now, do I? And when, not if, I meet a lovely lady, I certainly don't take her back to my bloody secret lair for schnapps and a bout. If you're gonna stay in this game, you need to wisen up, love, before someone else does the wising for you."
"I don't know what you do at parties and I don't need to know."
Anyway, have an attempt at a half-playful smack to the face. "We're calling this a 'lair' now, good to know we sound like shitty villains in a shitty superhero movie. But hey. At least I don't have issues with cute kittens."
The snarcasm never ceases to flow, even as he starts to give in to the demands of a kitten obsessed insane person. "Oh yes, we're all the rage, 3 seasons in on fuckin' HBO. Look, if you let me run some detection spells on the damn furball, and they all come back completely clean, you can keep it, yeah? Just don't let it out of your bloody room or it'll wind up as its own artifact sob story before lunch."
"Three seasons? Shit, I should talk to the costuming department about my wardrobe. I could use a sleeker look -- I've always thought those full body suits look badass. Maybe even a cool mask. But fine, I'll keep it in my room."
Constantine chants for nearly 5 minutes, featuring at least 4 languages and nearly twice as many spells. Finally, he stop, and after taking a few breaths, smudges the spell circle, steps inside and tosses the jar to Zed. "There, now get the little rat out of my sight before I can realize how much I'm going to regret this."
She opens the jar, pulling the kitten gently out and cradling it closely while petting it. "So scary, right?" She will make fum of him for this forever, basically.
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So, when she's looking for a space to settle down for a bit and draw with her sketchpad and charcoal pencils, she winds up pushing a bunch of aforementioned shit where it was on a chair, where it unceremoniously clatters to the floor. And then she sits on the chair, her legs draped over one of the armrest. Such classy. Very wow.
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"For fuck's sake, love, you've gotta be careful with this shit. If you don't want to wind up as some sob story I tell the next lot, then don't fucking shove shite where it don't belong!"
He sorts through the stack, making sure nothing is out of place or looking particularly evil...today. He then drops the entire stack on the nearest table.
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"And this is...?" She calls out, questioning.
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And then A Thought. "So if it was the 80s, did this person wear MC Hammer pants?" Ba dum tssh.
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With that, he places a hand on her shoulder, firmly pressing her towards the door.
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AW.
She gently scoops the kitten up and walks back inside, leaving her glass outside.
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RUDE.
"What the fuck are you doing?! God, at least give it some air."
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After he finishes, he straightens up and looks her in the eye with a steely gaze. "Do you mind telling me exactly what made you think that was a bloody good idea?"
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For fuck's sake, dude.
"Um. I found a kitten, obviously. And was going to give it some milk and food, and a warm cat bed. Probably a box lid with a blanket in it." Because cats, man. Cats.
"So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do that." She starts to pick up the jar with one probably terrified kitten inside it.
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Anyway, have an attempt at a half-playful smack to the face. "We're calling this a 'lair' now, good to know we sound like shitty villains in a shitty superhero movie. But hey. At least I don't have issues with cute kittens."
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