goodfellow | John

"I think my way of expressing frustration isn't something their people do," he said as he shook out the pack. When he passed it over, the occult tattoos on his arms were obvious.

"I'll talk to them both. Settle them down. Probably not get married. I'm sure that'll make neither of them happy," he chuckled.

Robin looked at him for a moment and... kind of believed him. Not that he wasn't still worried. But given the conversation he had with Fawn maybe it was best to at least let them try to work it out first.

"Okay," he said. "But to be clear, if you hurt either of them, we will have a problem." He said this neutrally, not with bravado, but with the air of someone who just... meant it.

"And I'm the last person you want to Ave a problem with," he nodded.

"So, you're Fin's pi- 'manager', huh?"

Robin's face went cold.

"I assist him in his livelihood," he said. "Because I am, as I said, his friend. And do not test me, whoever-the-fuck-you-are. It is good to know that you are not a person to cross, but I am older than your species and I am difficult to intimidate."

"Good to know," he replied. John pulled out another cigarette, tucked it between his lips, then snapped his fingers. A bright flame appeared that he lit up with, then shook to extinguish.

"Neither am I."

Okay, so that definitely did make him more interesting, but to his credit, Robin intentionally didn't look impressed.

"Magic user?" he asked.

"Petty dabbler " he replied before taking a deep drag.

"How old are you?"

"I doubt you can count that high," Robin said with a smirk, and took a drag on the cigarette.

"You'd be amazed at what I can do," he smirked. John looked him over. Truly studied him. Part of what made him an excellent con artist was his ability to get a read on people.

"You from Earth like all the rest of the crew?"

"More or less," said Robin. "But I'm not human, obviously."

John jutted his chin up in a sharp nod.

"You're not an angel. Or a demon. Or a fae. That means before any of that, hmm. You and Old God?"

Only gods had balls this big.

Robin laughed, unexpectedly delighted by that. "As far as you're concerned, honey, I am absolutely a god."

"Every godI met is a tosser," John snorted. "I admire your restraint, makig me guess instead of announcing it."

He laughed out a cloud of smoke that was instantly filtered away.

There were humans on earth who had, some time ago, worshipped Robin as a god, so he didn't think that John's assumption was entirely inaccurate even if he knew that he wasn't what John had in mind.

So for now, he changed and subject.

"And you're in love with Fawn," he said. Neutrally. Though perhaps with just a twinge of skepticism.

A softness touched his eyes, then John ducked his chin.

"Hopelessly," he nodded.

"He's very manic pixie dream boy isn't he," Robin said. The expression on John's face was genuine, but fuck if they weren't a bizarre couple.

Though to be fair, Fin was a bit more subtle of a manic pixie dream boy himself, and honestly Robin could see how that could be terribly appealing. Not that he was being appealed to. Of course not.

The soft smle fell, vanished, and a sad frown took its place. Manic pixie dream boy. Fuck, he wished. The guilt that ate at him was that he loved Fawn. Hs Fawn. The ache of his absence was killing him. And he loved Fawn here. Different. Similar. So easy to care for.

But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't using him to quell his homesickness in addition to everything else.

"He is," he nodded, his head dropping as he did.

"Well if you love him so much it might be worth some introspection about why both of them think you're likely to fly off the handle and do something stupid," said Robin.

"Fin's sensitive. Always has been, every time. It's not a bad thing, but he has a soft heart. I've hurt every one of them," he confessed.

That didn't exactly make sense, but neither did any of this. "Just tell me you're not going to do something stupid like tell anyone you think Fin is a murderer," Robin said. "Or assault either of them." Both Fin and Fawn implied that they thought John had the potential to be violent.

John leveled look at him as if that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

"I'd never lay a hand on either of them," he said. He wasn't even going to acknowledge he knew anything about the murder, though.

John was a talented liar and a loyal friend. He'd thrown the secret at Fin in anger, but as far as anyone else? Vapid ignorance about that.

Weirdly, Robin believed him.

"Good," he said. "You ought to consider what they think you're capable of, though." He took another drag of the cigarette. "Okay, that's all."

"Neither of them has any idea what I'm actually capable of," John said. "I'm not even sure, and I'm not going to test it in a tin can in space."

"I just hope you know that even though Fawn might not entirely realize this, if you hurt Fin he will never forgive you."

"You really have a hard on for this idea I'm going to hurt either of them," John noted a bit defensively

Robin shrugged. "And considering we've never met you might wonder where that idea is coming from."

"More like I'm wondering why it's hanging on," he countered.

"Untwist your pants, mate."

Robin decided he was done here anyway.

He stubbed the cigarette into an ashtray. "Well, enjoy the rest of your day," he said.

John jutted his chin at him. Fucking hell, gods were pricks.

"Ta, mate," he said without a trace of disdain.

John

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