maskormenacelogs | GOD DAMN YEEZY HOW YOU HIT EM WITH A NEW STYLE

[ It's a few minutes past midnight in exactly the kind of bar you'd expect to find John Constantine in, if you happened to know him. The floor is faintly tacky with probably a few decades of drinks spilled and half-cleaned, barstools with frayed cushions and splintered legs. The liquor isn't anything special, but hey -- they don't really give a shit if you smoke at the bar.

Jason's been taking advantage of that fact all night while he nurses his booze. He hadn't really planned on actually drinking much -- he didn't really come here to drink, he came to stalk this asshole he met on the internet, like you do. The drink is just camouflage, is the idea. The thing is that actually, he hates everything in his life and has just got done having it out with Bruce, which is not a thing he wanted or was in any way actually ready for.

So somehow, he's had like three whiskey sours and a shot of tequila, and it occurs to him that he is bored. And this guy he's stalking isn't doing much of anything, at this exact particular second. You can only learn so much just watching a person. And it takes a long time, waiting for someone to do something interesting, something you can learn something from. Something you can't learn from browser history, at least.

It wasn't really part of his plan. But that's fine. Not everything has to go exactly according to some preordained plan. Sometimes you just have to make a shitty impulse decision, just so that something will be happening other than you sitting at a bar and thinking about shit.

For instance, sometimes you have to get up, walk behind this Constantine asshole like you're passing by him, and at the last second swerve hard and crash right the hell into him, knocking him straight off the barstool. ]

[ Being tipsy isn't the same thing as being stupid, so it's not like John failed to notice the half-arsed attempt at a leather daddy staring at him at one point or another. But he's also busy - even if he looks like he's doing nothing, he's always watching or planning something or another. So, if the bloke wants something, let him start it.

Which he does at last by "accidentally" sending John toppling from his stool.

John is not large - he's usually a bit shorter and much skinnier than the average blokes who pick fights with him. He has to know how to take a hit, roll with them. There's not much fanfare when he hits the floor, thankfully. It's not the kind of place where they give a shit. He's back up with a bit of a bounce to his step, just to annoy Tall, Dark and Asshole.

Well, there goes my record for The Floor Is Lava.

[ He plucks his shot glass from the safety of the bar's countertop and knocks it back, all without breaking eye contact with his new pal. ]

[ He cocks his head a little, curiously, weighing his options. He could just throw a punch, he supposes. On the other hand, he could try egging the guy on into a fight. See how much it takes to get him to throw the first punch. On appearances alone Jason is pretty obviously dangerous. On the other hand, appearances don't mean that much, and this guy doesn't seem all that afraid of Batman, so maybe he's got something up his sleeve?

His words slur when he speaks -- he's not actually that drunk, but he's relaxed enough to let his natural accent come through strong, and it works better if he seems wasted, right? Sure he's big, but he's a drunk asshole. You could probably take him. Maybe. ]

Well shit, man, you were going for a record, you should keep your chair out of the fuckin' aisle, right?

[ Right then. Clearly a lot to unpack about this one.

Off the bat, John ruled out the bloke picking a fight at random. The collision certainly wasn't on accident. What he might have said or done to attract his attention would be a fuckin' journey to figure out, though. John had pissed off enough people, he couldn’t always be expected to remember what for. He was a busy fella.

Not that he was in any hurry or feeling dumb enough to throw the first punch. A little extra quality time with such a pretty bloke couldn't hurt, right?

So, John respond in kind, egging him on right back and exaggerating his own accent a touch. You're not the only one from The Wrong Side Of Town, after all. ]

Well, hope you weren't in any hurry t'get to parkour tryouts, mate. Advice from me to you? Don't quit yer' day job.

Edited 2016-12-13 05:43 (UTC)

[ He grins a little at the parkour crack, vaguely considers a dumb pun about his night job, but he's supposed to be in-character here, right? He grins, lazy and predatory and maybe a little too sharp for his definitely-not-a-highly-trained-assassin character here, but hey, close enough, fight? ]

You trying to pick a fight, man? 'Cause it kinda sounds to me like you are.

[ Rolling his shoulders restlessly. I mean, it's pretty obvious he's about to throw a punch regardless of what you answer here. This random asshole is very clearly about to punch you for no goddamn reason whatsoever, John Constantine. So what are you gonna do? ]

[ Picking a fight? No, just not backing down from one. John is the right mix of blasé and buzzed to roll with it. It's been a dull month anyway. ]

Really gotta work on yer' pre-fight one-liners, kid.

[ Come at him already. He's getting bored. ]

[He laughs a little, weighing his options. He's sort of winging it here. But he guesses there's no reason to hold back, right? Guy said he was a pro at getting his ass kicked. He'll live.]

Well, I like to save them for later in the fight, you know?

[He throws a punch, hard and fast and out of nowhere. Not looking to start a fight, looking to end one, trying to knock him out in one precisely-aimed blow to the head.]

[ It would knock out someone who didn't know how to take a punch. Unfortunately, John's got a thick Northerner skull.

The floor meets him again and he manages through the ringing in his ears to break the fall with his shoulder. At least the other barflys aren't giving John and his new pal the dignity of paying much attention or providing any stupid "oohs" or "aahs". Not yet anyway.

He gives the bloke a moment to gloat over what he must think is an impressive and clever assault before stumbling back up, not bothering to wipe away the crimson starting to ooze from his nose. It adds to the effect. ]

C'Mon, you gotta go right for the face? I do some of my favorite things with it.

[ Even the bartender is just rolling his eyes at them at this point. Jason just shrugs and rocks on his heels, grinning a bit. It's an interesting reaction, anyway -- taking the punch, not hitting back. He's good at taking a punch, to be sure. That would have knocked a normal person out cold. On the other hand, he might not be any good at actually fighting, since he isn't fighting back. Or maybe he is good and he's just being stubborn for some reason.

That's fine. Push hard enough and he'll fight back, or try to escape. Either one would be good to know, anyway. ]

Like talk shit, you mean? You know, I'm just gonna keep hitting you until something interesting happens, so you might as well get on with it. Or are you gonna use up all your snappy lines first?

[ Speaking of snappy, as promised he is gonna go ahead and throw another punch. A body blow this time, since he has already bloodied your face pretty well. On the other hand, it's a kidney shot, because there are no rules in bar fights and Jason is just absolutely a mean fucking person. ]

[ Ow.

This punch is nowhere near as sudden, John's new friend already letting his temper get the better of him, making him hit harder, sure, but also making him sloppier. The pull-back and connect is obvious, enough that John can twist just slightly and take some of the pain off his kidney. But he still acts like it's a direct hit, to suit his needs. ]

Sonova-- ahhhh shite.

[ He doesn't have to act it up much, considering he still got punched somewhere that should make him piss blood. The good thing is, doubled over from a strike like that puts him in the optimal position to land a hard jab at the bloke's liver with his elbow. Hope you didn't have a heavy meal today. ]

[ Fortunately his reflexes are way beyond a normal person, so he's rolling with that hit, grabbing John by the lapel to slam him back hard against the wall, pressing his palm against his throat. He isn't really trying to choke him out right now, to be honest. He figures he could knock John out whenever, probably -- thick skull or not, the right chokehold should put anyone under. But why end it now?

He grins, laughing a little. Somehow he seems to actually be enjoying himself. Like attacking strangers is his hobby or something. ]

You know, you're right. You are a pro at getting your ass kicked.

[ As hard as it is for John to deny that he's kinda starting to enjoy the big, loud, leather-clad prettyboy keeping him in a chokehold, he can't ignore the gold nugget that just dropped in his lap.

He only recalls telling one person that little quip about "being a pro at getting his arse kicked". So the buddy wasn't a random attack after all. But why in the hell would a basket case who trolls anonymous internet chats be this good at throwing punches?

Not that John is going to be a dumb idiot and ask about this at all. No point blowing his load when they were still at the foreplay stage. ]

Just one'a the many services I provide. Might have to start charging if you get any rougher, though.

[ Using leverage is usually how John ends up surviving encounters like these, since wits make up for his lack of stature. Sort like right now, how he takes one of his dangling feet and stomps it at Daddy Issues' knee joint. ]

[ Do you ever have one of those moments where you have been kind of drunk for a little while, but you didn't think you were drunk because everything seemed normal, but you maybe tried to stand up or move your head quickly or something and you suddenly realize exactly how drunk you are?

This right here, where John actually gets him to slip on his feet a little, is that moment.

Anyway, the smart thing to do would probably be to just take it in stride and punch him a couple more times. But when Jason is caught off-guard by something he usually falls back on his combat training, and in this case his combat training suggests that the right course of action here is to do one of those fucking somersault kick throw things like goddamn Ryu from street fighter or that one gag from nichijou, except, you know, in the middle of a crowded goddamn bar, like that's a really solid plan of action and not a completely fucking unnecessary escalation since you were just supposed to stalk him a bit, remember, what the fuck are you doing Jason. ]

[ While John is airborne, a thought occurs to him, appearing his mind in an oddly calm manner: "Oh, right, now it makes sense."

He thinks it because as he's being kick-flipped the length of the bar, it occurs to him that his new friend strikes like an obvious professional for a reason. The same reason he's got all this unresolved and uncontained trauma and the same reason he got weirdly defensive about Batman.

The other bar-goers split like the fucking red sea so as not to stop the impressive force with which the wiry British man has been flung. Fortunately, the bartender is saved the effort of having the tell the lovebirds to take it outside, as the backdoor finally breaks John's momentum, an ugly thump sounds as he makes impact, his body managing to actually open it, albeit with a few of his ribs paying the price.

There's enough sacks of rubbish in the back alley to cushion his fall, at least. But John trips back up onto his feet once a-fucking-gain, a hand braced on the brick wall so he can ease his way up, catching his breath all the while. By the time the boy catches up to him, he's still leaning there, doing a piss-bad job of not looking or sounding winded. ]

Haven't had... this much fun on a first date... in ages. And to think, I was... worried, about meeting chaps from online.

Edited (I'M FINNICKY AS FUCK I'M SORRY) 2016-12-19 05:45 (UTC)

[ He follows out shortly, closing the door behind him. In spite of himself he looks like he's having a great time, mostly because he is. Maybe he's just naturally sort of an asshole, but throwing people around is fun. And John will live. He said he was a pro at getting his ass kicked, right? And he looks fine. Or, you know. Like he will eventually be fine.

It's fine.

He leans up against the door frame, watching John stumble to his feet with a sly grin. ]

Oh, sure. You got physically tossed out of a bar, but at least I'm not a fucking catfish, right?

[ No, John thinks, a catfish you aren't, but a certain type of bird on the other hand...

It would be much easier to get angry about getting the shit kicked out of him if his assailant could wipe that stupid fuckin' grin off his face, or if he didn't quite fill out that jacket so well. Of if John hadn't figured out he's part of the goddamned Bat-clan and the boy seems to have no idea that he's over-played his hand. But that's just an added bonus, really. Something he can save for a rainy day.

John uprights himself carefully, using his sleeve to dab some of the blood away. Been a while since he'd had a real, proper bar brawl. Maybe he should be thanking the lad. ]

Not tellin' the whole truth innit the same as a lie. Yer' a big enough boy to know that, surely?

[ Truth be told, he's not exactly trying to hide it. It's not that he intends to go around advertising the fact, but it isn't a secret because none of the things that are secret can really be derived from the bare fact of his association with Batman. Not his real name, of course, and certainly not Bruce's. But more importantly, none of the shit he doesn't want to talk about. The particular circumstances of his death, his resurrection, and his current relationship with Bruce.

Maybe John has figured out that he's an ex-Robin and maybe he hasn't. But Robin is just a mask anyway. Jason Todd is nobody, and nobody knows him. No need to hide what's naturally invisible. ]

Pretty sure I grasp the concept, yeah. Why, you holding out on me?

[ Technically, yes, John had been holding out. Mostly because putting his whole force and aggression up against a walking, one-man fight club would have been really, really bloody stupid. ]

Well. I was going to pose as an Algerian prince and woo your social security number out of you, but bein' direct is much more fun.

[ Aw, to hell with it.

There's no one else in the alley, so no witnesses to the blow to the kid's pride if John gets in just one sucker punch, a quick and clean right hook while his defenses are down and they're enjoying their chat.

And he almost doesn't enjoy wreaking havoc on those cheekbones. ]

[ Honestly, his reflexes are strong enough that he fucked people up even when he was literally catatonic. On the other hand, he is a little drunk, and he acknowledges that he did just attack John for no good reason, so it seems reasonable to let him get a hit in.

And yeah, maybe he's kind of fucked up, but the sharp pain of a clean hit is not the worst sensation in the world.

His head snaps to the side with the blow. About half a second later, he's swept John's feet out from under him and is on top of him, straddling him with one hand pressed down against John's throat, his eyes wild and his mouth bloody. Getting punched in the face does not seem to have put anything like a damper on his mood. ]

Oh yeah? I don't think it's my social security number you're after, though.

[ Yeah, John just might stay down this time.

He goes back to his rolling with the hits, but this time maybe just a bit too enthusiastically. His skull is still intact as he lands on his back, at least, and the current view is nothing to complain about. ]

Ah. Shit. You figured it out before I even got to my supervillain monologue, mate.

[ And he'd back it up, if he weren't pinned in place. ]

Edited 2016-12-20 08:58 (UTC)

[It is not even a full 24 hours after Jason's last run in with Inanna and already the goddess is paying him another visit. At the very least he had the decency to wait until Jason was actually awake. And not in whatever hole in the wall he's calling home right now. Inanna knows better than to show up unannounced in someone's actual bedroom. That's just rude.

Showing up at their ~~morning~~ afternoon coffee stop, however, is absolutely fair game. At least he doesn't sparkle in this time. He uses the front door like a normal human person—apart from the quite literal stars in his eyes that he's scanning the shop with until he settles on Jason.]

—Ah. You're even cuter than I expected.

[ Using the front door like a normal person does not make people any less likely to stare at him. Jason vaguely considers trying to act like he has no idea what the guy is talking about, but that's probably pointless and likely embarrassing.

Instead he just keeps sipping at his dine-in mug of triple-tall redeye. ]

Shouldn't you be hung over as shit right about now?

I stayed hydrated. And I had a good hangover cure for breakfast.

[ Sipping his coffee. He looks like he's having a shitty morning, honestly. ]

And here you are all bright-eyed at 3 PM in the morning. Where's hashtag-aesthetic at, she not get hydrated enough to come out? Pretty shocking, 'cause she seemed real thirsty.

[Cool. Inanna's going to sit himself down across from Jason.]

Probably with Luci. She'll come and find you again on her own time. I thought it'd be nice to see you alone this time.

Just curious, what exactly about your limited experience with me makes you think seeing me with or without your friends is going to turn into a nice time for anyone?

Well, I don't think you're going to hurt me, so it won't be a bad time.

[ He supposes he could ask whether Inanna thinks Jason won't hurt him, or can't -- but there's no real reason to get into that, is there. Jason doesn't actually want to pick a fight, right? ]

I mean, I could be boring as shit.

[Okay, he actually laughs at that.]

You're kidding, right?

Yeah, totally kidding. I am just the life of the goddamn party, I think that should be obvious.

Edited 2016-12-19 05:10 (UTC)

Some kind of party, that's for certain. I wouldn't have come here if you hadn't caught my interest.

Edited 2016-12-19 05:14 (UTC)

See, I wonder about that. What kind of a fucking maniac sees a guy about to commit a murder and thinks, damn, that's my type right there?

I do have an answer for that, but are you sure this is a conversation you want to have in a coffee shop? Seems a little incriminating.

Nobody's close enough to hear at this volume or at a decent angle to read my lips, except for the barista, and he hasn't looked away from you since you walked in. But hey, you wanna get out of here, by all fucking means.

[ Downing the rest of his coffee in one shot. There was a lot left, but hey, what the fuck, right. Then he's standing up. ]

Shall we?

[Inanna turns long enough to wink at the barista while Jason's finishing off his coffee. They'll have to make a point to come back here later.]

Hm? Oh—yes. Where do you want to go?

Nowhere in particular. Just keep walking.

[ Heading out of the coffee shop and heading off in a random direction. He doesn't really seem cagey, despite his paranoid insistence on moving on. ]

Edited 2016-12-29 05:03 (UTC)

Well—alright.

[They're not very sure how this is better than the coffee shop, but okay. Walking with no destination it is.]

Do you wander like this a lot?

GOD DAMN YEEZY HOW YOU HIT EM WITH A NEW STYLE

> JOHN CONSTANTINE

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Asshole #2

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