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WHO: John Constantine & OPEN
WHERE: Maurtia Falls, mostly
WHEN: anytime in March
WHAT: Magic! Drinking! CR building in general.
WARNINGS: nudity, chicken blood, alcohol, eta nsfw in the thread with Bob

[Maurtia Falls #007]

Currently, Constantine is standing outside of his housing in Maurtia Falls on whatever passes for a front lawn and it's fairly dark—which is probably a good thing, considering he's not wearing any clothing and is covered in chicken blood. Hey, he's trying not to make a mess in the house, alright? He's such a considerate housemate, really. (Hopefully any passing cops will see it that way.) Plus, being outside beneath a full moon helps with the general ambiance. The 'general ambiance' of what one might ask (if you dare) and if anyone stops and watches, it might become apparent to some that he's casting a spell, standing in a protective circle of what might be flour (but probably isn't), chanting first in English-

"Hear me, most Unnameable of Devourers who guardeth the Eternal Gateway! I seek an audience with one in your embrace!" Which is followed by a few commanding-sounding phrases in Old Aramaic (rinse, repeat)—although... nothing appears to be actually happening.

[Maurtia Falls; some dive bar]

In more clothed circumstances, John can be found at his home-away-from-home, aka a neighborhood bar, where he's just about halfway through a bottle of whiskey, an ashtray full of cigarette butts on the bar in front of him, brooding ~~sexily~~.

Or alternately, catch him relating a story to the bartender and anyone else who might be sitting close by-

"You call that fun? Fun is when your ex-girlfriend who's currently a nun shoots you in the gut and leaves you at the mercy of an Invunche, and in order to survive, you're forced to invite a demon king to possess you, and after you go on a murder spree, you get locked up in a Mexican prison with time running out and very little 'ope of an exorcism. Now that was a fun weekend."

[Wildcard] Create your own starter and John will be there!

[Disclaimer: both of the above scenarios shamelessly inspired by NBC's Constantine. Prefer brackets? Go for it!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Mmm. Yeah, charmed," Bob agrees in a murmur and drops his hand to his knee as soon as John releases it, twisting on the stool to give the man his full attention. His knuckles are almost close enough to graze whatever part of the other man he can touch, but not quite. Call it habit, but as much as he'd like to keep the contact going, he's wary of his surroundings.

As John offers to treat him to a drink he grins, accepting with a grateful nod and orders another Coke. The only thing he's going to be approaching the limit of is caffeine and it's not like he needs alcohol to have fun. Actually, he's sure of it, sitting next to a man who's saying and doing all the things he's been craving since he got here. Probably longer than that, if he's honest.

"You been here before?" he asks, tearing his eyes away from the blond to take a quick look around the bar. It had been a random choice for Bob, popping into this one instead of any of the other bars he could find with his eyes closed.

"Not a drinker then, are yeh?" John asks, lifting his eyebrow a little. That might create a problem down the road if true, because John certainly is and then some, with sober people having a tendency to be a bit judgmental in that respect.

He's not however, really thinking about anything 'down the road' at this point, his mind not going much beyond 'one night stand,' and possibly not even that much; more like 'getting off in the men's room stall' at the rate they're going.

"Oh yeah, quite a bit," he replies. "I don't live too far from 'ere; Maurtia Falls government 'ousing. You?"

"Me? Nah, mate, I love a pint. Just not when I'm driving. Don't really fancy being that bloke, know what I mean?"

Bob laughs but not because it's a stupid question - it's a fair question considering they're in a bar and he's ordering everything non-alcoholic. He's just not the kind of arsehole that smashes back alcohol and then gets behind the wheel of a car. He might be a thief but he has enough of a conscience to take at least that seriously. That and he just really fucking loves driving.

"Bit of a petrolhead," he adds, grinning, because he's already done a bit of a roadtrip up this way. Driving a thousand miles is his idea of heaven.

"Porters are alright and that but... driving up here from Heropa? Much fucking better. Pedal was to the floor for most of it." He nods a thank you to the bartender as his drink is placed in front of him and plucks it up with restless fingers to toast.

"Cheers for the drink, John. I'm drinking to driving north instead of west. Worked out pretty fucking well, I reckon."

"Ah, well then. It's probably a good thing I never drive," he says, smirking a little. Definitely a good thing, considering how much he drinks.

"Can't say I'm too fond of the Porters either, mate." There's something about walking into one of those government facilities that makes him a touch uncomfortable, which is saying something, given he's a bloke who's actually walked into Hell on a number of occasions.

"As it turns out, I've got another option, courtesy of the Porter, in that I can open up a portal from one place to another. Saves a bit on cab fares, yeah?"

"My favourite type of person. No having a barney over who's driving."

Bob mentions with a grin in return, eyes catching on the smirk. His fingers are playing with the glass between his hands, rarely ever still and mostly driven by the pent up energy he seems to have in abundance. Sometimes he's found it really fucks people off but he really can't help it!

Listening to John explain what he can do, he actually manages to stop moving for what feels like a long few seconds. As much as he loves driving, being able to open portals between places sounds like fun, if he's understanding it right.

"Mmm, sounds like a good way to get in trouble," he comments with a smirk of his own this time, his brain supplying a lot of examples, some more explicit than others. He wouldn't mind the blond man opening a portal directly to his bed.

"How's that work, then? Can you go anywhere?"

John doesn't find Bob's excess energy especially off-putting; he can be that way himself on occasion. But he's also just as likely to be lethargic, so he's a bit bipolar in that respect.

"Me, get in trouble?" he asks, feigning surprise, his manner indicative of a person who goes looking for trouble on a regular basis. He leans a bit closer, so as to speak more confidentially, his leg pressing against Bob's.

"Well, I cast a spell with a certain destination in mind and it creates a fiery vortex which I then step into and come out wherever it is I want to be. Sort of like opening a portal to Hell, only more linear."

Resting an elbow on the bar top, Bob finds himself leaning in too, not just because he wants to hear what the other man has to say. Inching ever closer is a fun game to play.

"Yeah, see, somehow I reckon you're a handful," he returns, voice quiet now that they've leaned in closer, grin playful and eyes dark in the low light of the bar. He's already forgotten about his drink and the fact that they're surrounded by other people.

As John explains his power, Bob's not moved away, eyes drawn to watching the other man's lips as he speaks. It's a nice mouth. He hears what he's being told, but he's still thinking about how much trouble the other man is likely to be. He likes handfuls.

"Sounds hot." Literally. "Maybe you can show me sometime. Plenty of places I'd like to meet you."

"You know it, sweet cheeks," John returns with a wink. "Something tells me you're a man who likes to 'ave his 'ands full." Full of what, he doesn't elaborate on, but given the wink, it probably wouldn't be too hard to guess. Speaking of hard things.

Their faces are close enough now that it would be really easy for John to lean in a few more inches and kiss him, but given it's a public place and Bob seems like a more discreet type, he resists the temptation, simply licking his own lips a little before pulling back, having noticed the direction of Bob's gaze.

"Oh, very," he agrees, picking up his glass again. "That can be arranged."

"Mm. And something tells me you're a man who can help with that," Bob fires back, smile turning from cheeky to something more heated as he thinks about what exactly he can get his hands on that belongs to John. He'd like to find out later, for now trying to restrain himself enough to build a bit of anticipation. He's hardly known for his patience but he can at least finish the drink the other man bought for him before suggesting they head somewhere else. He's turned on but he's not going to be rude about it.

As John leans back, Bob takes a second to pull himself together. He can't remember the last time he got so fucking involved in trying to chat up another bloke so obviously. Not without an ulterior motive, anyway. For now he's just genuinely enjoying the company, a bit of banter back and forth.

Sliding his own drink closer towards him, he glances around the bar. It's a force of habit, checking out his surroundings and trying to work out if he's about to get bottled or not. So far this new world hasn't given him any trouble unless he's gone looking for it. Giving himself a moment to cool off, his gaze flicks back to John and he raises an eyebrow.

"How long you been here?" he asks and then adds after a sip of his Coke, "not the bar, I mean this world..."

"There's a lot to be said for putting yourself in another person's 'ands." Is he talking about trust issues, accepting another person's help, or letting someone else take control? Maybe; maybe not. My, it certainly is getting hot in here.

As he sips his own drink, he can see that Bob's looking a little... nervous, maybe? Or cautious, he's not entirely sure. Could be he comes from a world that's less than tolerant of a couple of blokes flirting with each other. Or maybe he just doesn't talk to wizards much.

"Ah, let's see... about seven months now? Yeah." But that could easily apply to how long he's been in the bar as well.

Smirking around the rim of his glass, Bob's eyes stay fixed on John's as he takes a silent gulp of his drink. It's not that he's rushing it, exactly, but he's not being slow about it either. Since the other man was kind enough to buy him a drink, he's sure he can think of a few ways to return the favour later.

But at the next answer, his eyebrows shoot up and he puts his glass back on the bar top with a clunk. Maybe a little too hard but he's never been good at not reacting first and then thinking later.

"Seven months? Fuck, that's some time, mate. I've only been here one and I'm already missing home like mad." He's honest, maybe a little too honest sometimes, and he shakes his head like he can't imagine what seven months here might be like. Missing home is something that hasn't got any better no matter how many new friends he thinks he's made here. He misses talking to his family, his mates. He misses being an idiot in and around the streets of his city. His London. He's homesick.

John shrugs. "Can't say I've minded it all that much, but it's not as though I've got much of an 'ome to miss." He's a Man of the World, clearly. "Not a lot of relatives, really." That are still speaking to him, anyway. "No significant others." Having sent his latest boyfriend to Hell; collateral damage when John banished the demon who owned Dez's soul. "No kids." That he knows of.

"No permanent residence lately, aside from a gig on a time-traveling ship with a bunch of misfits." Which he actually fit into in a weird sort of way, being a misfit himself.

"Left a lot behind, did yeh?"

Listening intently, Bob's expression is neutral as he watches John's. He knows that not everybody's the same and that's more than alright with him. His own guilt at having not seen his mum as much as he should have is a strange one, sitting somewhere at the back of his mind. He's done a good job so far of filling his time with all sorts of people to keep it there.

But there's no judgement in his expression because there isn't any. Doesn't make a difference to him if the other man misses where he's from or not. He doesn't know John, a near on stranger, well enough to be doing any of that.

"'s fair enough, mate. Nah, just dickhead mates and family questioning my life choices. Standard. Rest of it doesn't matter." Even if his car is a close contender to things he misses the most. But the comment about time-travel grabs at his curiosity.

"...you say time-travelling ship?"

"It's 'ard to just get dropped into a whole new world and be expected to adapt, but—" he shrugs again, the corner of his mouth lifting, "I've been in worse places. Thankfully not for months at a time with little to no 'ope of ever getting out." Literal Hell, in other words.

"Yeah, that's right, mate. A spaceship called the Waverider, built by some wankers known as the Time Masters, and currently the base of operations for a bunch of not-so-super heroes who call themselves the Legends."

It occurs to John that he probably should have slept with Bob first and told him all this weird stuff second, as he's probably starting to eye the exits about now.

"You bein' serious? You're not having me on?" Bob asks and he's back to grinning again with a half-curious, half-cheeky sort of look in his eyes. It sounds trippy as fuck but he's never been one to not want to know about something because it sounds strange. If anything, that just makes him want to know more.

Now that he's been firmly distracted from thinking about what he's missing at home, he plucks up his drink from the bar again and takes a sip. He hasn't forgotten where their conversation started, even with the strangely honest emotional intermission, but he wants to learn more about the blond man. If he'd just wanted to shag the bloke and be on his way they'd be at it already.

"Legends? Not exactly modest but I like it."

"Nah, God's honest truth." Okay, he might have a bit of a reputation as a con artist, but that's neither here nor there. "Granted, it's not public knowledge, mind. They do a bit of freelance work for the Time Bureau, which nobody's ever 'eard of either, shh," he adds, holding a finger to his lips. Yeah, he might be starting to feel the gin just a bit.

"They're certainly legendary at creating as many anachronisms as they clean up," he says, tilting his head back and draining his glass. Lowering his voice, he leans a little closer once more. "So... feel like getting outta 'ere?"

"Mm."

It's an on the fence reply as Bob, trying not to be laughably gullible, still doesn't know if John's taking the piss or not. Not that it matters either way, he's not so proud that he can't see the humour in somebody trying to get one over on him for a laugh. Shaking his head as he huffs out an amused breath, he's got his glass halfway back to his mouth as John continues.

He hasn't got a clue what anachronisms are and he's about to ask what it means, but then John's leaning in and asking if he'd like to leave and the answer is a simple, slightly rough: "fuck yes I do."

Knocking back the rest of his drink in one, he's already on his feet from the stool before his glass is back down on the bar top. His movements are purposeful, choosing to not just brush heavily past the other man's side but to slide a hand from John's knee to hip on the way past too. It's completely unnecessary but he doesn't care, it's nowhere near as up close and personal as he'd like to be. If he cared about playing hard to get he's lost that game already.

Anyplace Bob wants to slide his hands is fine with John, who flashes him a brief but very wicked smile over his shoulder as the other man passes him. Standing as well, he fishes a wallet out of his pocket and pulls a couple of bills out, leaving them on the bar before turning to head out the door.

Once outside, he takes a deep breath of the night air, tilting his head in the direction they'll be going. "My place is just down the road a bit, well within walking distance; it'll just take a few minutes." He smirks a little, looking mischievous. "I won't ask you to walk through any fiery portals for me on the first date."

Bob doesn't know what to pay attention to first, the man's expression or what he's saying. It's not that he's against walking, exactly, he just prefers to drive. And he could drive them, his car parked across the street where he left it earlier after deciding to take a break from his little roadtrip.

But he really wants to see these fiery portals. And, more than that, he just wants to concentrate on the bloke he's leaving the bar with, not on driving.

"I was just psyching myself up for one, Blondie. You sure? 'cause I'm game."

John hesitates, his better judgment warning him not to do anything of the sort—if he were afraid just talking about magic would scare this bloke away, opening what looks like a portal to Hell ought to send him shrieking away into the night if he's skittish at all.

But then, when does John ever listen to his better judgment? Also, he loves to show off.

He takes a quick look around, and then placing his hand on Bob's shoulder, nudges him towards a dark alleyway. "Right then, in here, yeah? It's a bit... dramatic." To say the least.

Once in the alley, he takes a few steps away from the other man and takes a deep breath, muttering words in an ancient language while making decisive gestures with his hands, which leave fiery trails behind then as he draws figures and shapes in the air. He finishes the spell with a commanding flourish, and a fiery swirling vortex appears, growing in size until it's large enough for a man (or two men) to walk into. Ignoring it for the moment, John turns his attention back to Bob, leaning forward to kiss him heatedly while his hand cups him between the legs. Pulling back, John winks at him and steps into the portal, giving him a 'come hither' look over his shoulder, which Bob can choose to follow or not.

"Alright, alright," Bob laughs as he's willingly steered into a dark alley, welcoming the contact at his shoulder but behaving admirably considering the possibilities that await them. Privacy is something he doesn't pay attention to most of the time but some things, things like this, he doesn't have a particular desire for an audience. He half-wonders whether the man's changed his mind and wants to get hot and fucking bothered right here.

"The naughty shit I bet's happened down here," he comments as John pulls away to get started on what Bob's really curious to see. He doesn't have any further smart comments, just watches on with his eyes following the trails of fire seemingly springing from the other man's hands. It's mesmerising, nothing like he's ever seen before, and he only realises his mouth has been hanging open when it snaps shut as the portal appears.

"Fuck, that's..." he means to say 'amazing', but before he can get the word out, John's mouth is on his, a warm hand framing his crotch. He tastes like gin and cigarettes. If Bob cared to play it more cool he might have clamped down on the appreciative groan that works its way free from his lips, but he doesn't. As suddenly as the hand appeared it's gone again, the other man already out of his reach and stepped into the portal and Bob, a little disappointed at the loss of contact, finally finds a cheeky grin just for John.

With little to no regard for if this is a bad idea or not he follows, not stopping until he's stepping in through the portal and reaching out with a hand to strike up some more contact.

Surprisingly perhaps, there's no sensation either physically or visually of walking through fire; as Bob takes a step in, he's immediately stepping out on the other side—which happens to be John's bedroom in Maurtia Falls 007. Unfortunately however, it's not the greatest-looking bedroom, but that's mostly due to its present occupant being a touch on the messy side, with clothing scattered around, as well as empty beer and other assorted alcoholic bottles, a few dirty dishes and a random assortment of other things one probably shouldn't look too closely at.

"Home sweet 'ome," John says drolly, as the portal disappears behind them. He then pauses, wondering how Bob's reacting to all... this.

Stepping out on to the other side is a mind fuck and Bob, having never experienced anything like it, can't help but look back over his shoulder at where the portal had been. Completely dumbfounded, he takes a moment to try and wrap his brain around what just happened.

Turning his gaze back around on to the man he'd followed here, he raises both eyebrows and after a second of saying nothing at all, laughs.

"Think you just took my portal virginity."

He wants to know how it works, natural curiosity dialed up to a hundred, but he reckons they've got time to chat later. Definitely later. The messy room is mostly ignored (his isn't much better and that's after he'd had help tidying it up) and he closes the distance between them, hand reaching out to bunch up in John's shirt to pull him closer until their hips meet.

"Promise I'm more experienced in other things," he finally adds, words low and heated as his eyes drop to John's lips and then back up to his eyes.

"There are worse places a portal can lead too, for certain," he says. Hell, usually, not that he really wants to think about going there at the moment. Thankfully the other man seems to be taking this in stride.

"Are yeh, now? We'll see about that, eh?" he murmurs, his lips very close to Bob's, his eyes darkening. Without stepping back at all, he shakes his arms free of the trenchcoat, letting it drop to the floor, then pulls his already loose tie over his head, chucking it across the room, after which, he loses no time in starting to kiss him fiercely.

Since Bob's hands are already on John's shirt, he figures Bob can take care of getting him out of that.

More than happy to help, Bob's grin disappears as John kisses him, his attention suddenly poured into concentrating on that mouth against his own and his fingers blindly working at unbuttoning the shirt he's got hold of. He's acutely aware of his whole body aching for this kind of closeness, the simpleness of wanting skin on skin contact and sharing a moment like this with somebody who seems to want it just as much as he does.

Returning the kiss with every ounce of fierce dominance that's not usually on show, he makes light work of the buttons. He's not pushing the shirt off the other man yet but instead sliding his hands inside the gaping sides of fabric. Running his fingers over warm ribs, he draws his palms down the other man's back, not stopping until he's got the other man's arse in his hands so he can rock his hips forward. The friction he creates is distracting, pulls a low, unapologetic groan out of him.

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getting a bit NSFW here

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