Listening and obeying were two different things, but Constantine thought pointing that out would be more self-defeating than he usually cared to be. Taking a draw off his cigarette, John lifted his free hand and snapped his fingers. As he did, the ward released and the muin dropped straight down.
Lots of nasty things laid around John's room, hidden in plain sight by seeming harmless. The demon and ghost trap bottles were first and foremost, sealed traps that could hold some dangerous things. A mirror (John's one purchase besides the new books and maps) that hung on the wall didn't show their reflections but other shadowy forms only glimpsed. Other little charms sat about, the kind that might do something nasty like cause a genital rash or pissing blood until returned to their owner.
Papa Midnite had once said that there was no respect in what John did, no giving way to a higher power. He commanded magic as if it were his, wove it how he wanted it and fixed it in place. It was as much a drug to him as an addict's would be.
"Warn you here and now, mate," he said to the muin on the floor than Anton, "you stole anything, I'd bring it back quick."
He was sure at least one of his bottles was gone, a small trap one. Not that John cared. Might even make some rent money when the invader brought back the bottle with whatever/whoever it trapped inside. It was a living. What he cared about more was that Anton was here.
"How'd you get here before me, Shivery? You have cameras in here watching me drop trou? Making money on the side that way?" he asked with a laugh that was all show, watchfulness below it.
no subject
Listening and obeying were two different things, but Constantine thought pointing that out would be more self-defeating than he usually cared to be. Taking a draw off his cigarette, John lifted his free hand and snapped his fingers. As he did, the ward released and the muin dropped straight down.
Lots of nasty things laid around John's room, hidden in plain sight by seeming harmless. The demon and ghost trap bottles were first and foremost, sealed traps that could hold some dangerous things. A mirror (John's one purchase besides the new books and maps) that hung on the wall didn't show their reflections but other shadowy forms only glimpsed. Other little charms sat about, the kind that might do something nasty like cause a genital rash or pissing blood until returned to their owner.
Papa Midnite had once said that there was no respect in what John did, no giving way to a higher power. He commanded magic as if it were his, wove it how he wanted it and fixed it in place. It was as much a drug to him as an addict's would be.
"Warn you here and now, mate," he said to the muin on the floor than Anton, "you stole anything, I'd bring it back quick."
He was sure at least one of his bottles was gone, a small trap one. Not that John cared. Might even make some rent money when the invader brought back the bottle with whatever/whoever it trapped inside. It was a living. What he cared about more was that Anton was here.
"How'd you get here before me, Shivery? You have cameras in here watching me drop trou? Making money on the side that way?" he asked with a laugh that was all show, watchfulness below it.