goodfellow (
goodfellow) wrote2021-08-31 07:26 pm
John
Robin didn't particularly want to draw this out, so he went straight from Fawn to the quarters that were registered to John Constantine. He did not bring treats this time.
He knocked.
He knocked.

no subject
no subject
"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.
no subject
no subject
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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
"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."
no subject
no subject
"You really have a hard on for this idea I'm going to hurt either of them," John noted a bit defensively
no subject
no subject
"More like I'm wondering why it's hanging on," he countered.
"Untwist your pants, mate."
no subject
He stubbed the cigarette into an ashtray. "Well, enjoy the rest of your day," he said.
no subject
John jutted his chin at him. Fucking hell, gods were pricks.
"Ta, mate," he said without a trace of disdain.