sixwordstories | (no subject)

The relevant data of such an outcome is presently uncertain. Suffice to say that as long as you and your magic derived counertparts such as Miss Zatara do not interfere in my work, I have no qualms with any of you.

"Okay, wow. This escalated quickly."

John looks at the male's reaction before smiling and letting out a chuckle, "I was joking. Not about to start a god fucking fight with the New York's hero." A lot could have happened, John could have easily taken down the young Hero before him but--why do that? There's no gain in that, none at all.

"Oh. Uh-" Usually that's why people start fights with Pete. Well that, and the fact that he's super annoying and thinks he's hilarious. "Well good, then. Sorry-- you are...?"

"Constantine. John Constantine." John didn't care for the local heroes or any of those who were in a 'club' of sort, but meeting them were quite amusing, especially the younger ones, "...And you're fucking Spidey, right? I've heard a lot about you--you're way younger than I fucking thought you'd be. Thought you'd be like...hell...at least near my age." Not that John was too old, but going to Hell and back can make you feel ancient.

Peter's hands fly up between them, a frantic shushing gesture. "Oh my god! It's called discretion. Seriously." There's... no one listening. Whatever, Pete is paranoid. He doesn't feel like part of the club, he just kinda swings around doing his own thing and trying to stop people from hurting each other (and occasional super-villains from hurting him.) "How do you even know that?" A beat- "And I'm not that young. And you're not that old." Unless he's ancient but immortal or something, then Pete will just feel stupid.

John watched as Peter frantically told him to keep it down, Peter was different from him, completely different. "I heard it around town but it doesn't help when I can read your mind." John digs into his pocket in search of his cigarette pack, digging through his jacket and pants, "I guess I'm used to just not hiding who I am? Shit all the fucking demons around us knows me--not that you can see them--uh bless your fucking innocent mind." He gave Peter a pat while taking out his cigarette pack, digging into get the stick, "You and I are the same, we kick ass that aren't our own, except we do it in different ways." He placed the stick between his lips before tapping his head, "I use my head and maybe if I feel desperate I'll use some other shit, and you use your...thing--by the way, been wondering." He lit his cigarette and looked at Peter in curiosity, "Is that outfit of yours comfortable? Shit I've seen it on the news a couple time but...wow, it's quite...shit I don't know, looks fucking uncomfortable. Can't see myself wearing that shit."

"Wait. What?" Pete's first reaction is to glance around for the demons, but when John pats him he makes a face, assuming he's being messed with. Because seriously, science is his shtick. Even the weirdest of science, he can wrap his mind around. But the occult puts him way outside of his comfort zone.

Also, is this really happening? This is really happening. He's being accused of using brawn over brains, which has never happened before (at least, not to his face.) "Right." He lowers his hands, and... promptly flushes. That's a helluva question. "It's, uh-- not that bad. Once you get used to it. I can't just..." He points upwards towards the skyline, "you know, in the same hoodie and jeans I wore to school. "

John nodded, "True, that's really true don't want the fucking humans to realize who you are--especially when you got family." He points at Peter, "I personally find family a burden but your Aunt, heard she's a nice lady, good to know that you really take care of her well." He took a drag of his cigarette before letting out a flow of smoke, "...I'm also guessing that I am freaking you out, meaning that you haven't heard of me." John's amused but at the same time happy about this, maybe bumping into the guy was a bad idea after all, "...well that's what happens though when you let your guard down, your luck runs down with it."

He joked to himself before pointing at himself and slowly walking down to street his hand still upon Peter and slowly placed around his shoulder to take him with, "I'm John Constantine, exorcist, con man, blah blah shit like sorcerer, time traveler some calls me, and etc bull shit, but I'm more into the business of...Angels, Demons and shits that people say don't exist."

He points up and down, "Religion can be a fucking bitch--I know, but sadly they do exist. They don't exist in a way that some humans fucking interpret but the big guy up there and down there? Yeah, they're real." He licked his lip before placing the cigarette back in between his lip, "But honestly, it's really fucking good for you if you can't see them. You can't see them then they can't hurt you...at least directly they can't. Once you see them, then you're fucked." He points at Peter, "At least you got things you can see after you. People don't think you're insane." John has his scars to prove that too, his sanity, but that's why he feels older than he actually is now isn't' it.

Jack looks up, a little bewildered.
"I didn't mean no offence or nuffin. Ya just look a little too clean to be takin' this seriously 'sall."