tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; October 12th ((I probably messed something else up! D:))
Rating; PG-13
Characters; (

silkcutremix) John Constantine
Summary; A "date."
Log;

Constantine had been pecking away at the terminal's keyboard with the pencil in his teeth, the makeshift instrument steady from the deep grooves from his constant grip. His neck was getting tired; usually people left him alone, and that was enough for him. Never was one for the spotlight anyway.

He took a moment to sprawl out on the floor, allowing himself a moment's rest. He could not open the beers Scarab had left him and having mastered the art of couch-lighter-fu, his supply of cigarettes were waning. The hassle of lighting had slowed the fag depletion somewhat, but his speed was picking up again.

Should have ask the Dizzy bird that was coming over to pick up a pack. He shut his eyes, relaxing his jaws for a moment to free the pencil, indulging in a short nap. Could live with being an animal really, Mange the rabbit coming to mind. Just needed to unmute himself somehow and he would be set.

A mental frown: Missed Cori, he did. Guess a nightmare had his duties, or something.

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After what seemed like an hour of wondering, Dizzy finally managed to find John's home, tentative fingers rapping on the door's frame as she precariously balanced the bagged meat in her freed arm.

As she waited for a response, she couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to have company again, considering she hadn't really spent time with anybody since she'd last seen Bridget.

Bridget.

He was still angry with her...She couldn't say she blamed him, but the entire ordeal left her with a discontented, bitter taste in her mouth. She would have to solve things on that front later...Now, well, now was a time to meet someone knew; a chance at another friendship. Besides, anything that would distract her from the city's resent events was a good enough excuse to get out, to do anything but sit at home wondering just what the hell was going on.

She fanned out her wings a bit as she waited, juxtaposed colored feathers catching the light as she stretched them gingerly over her head, a small yawn escaping past her half-lidded lips as she continued to stand in silence, the only thing breaking the monotony of the air being her own voice as she gently began humming to herself.

There's those distractions again.

Blue eyes snapped open upon hearing the (very) loud knock at the door. There was a gentle hint of meat in the air; no doubt who that could be. A twitch in his rear indicated an involuntary wag.

Guess online dating is for you then. His mind smiled.

Constantine pulled himself up and trotted to the door on long, groggy legs, setting himself to work on undoing the locks, then finally, opening the door with the knobs of his bony wrists. It was cracked, enough for Dizzy to press her way in unless he pawed it open the rest of the way, and he sat there, having backed up, panting in a cheerful canine grin.

Dizzy involuntarily tilted her head as she waited for the door to open, her keen ears capturing the sound of each bolt undoing; were those claws scratching against the smooth wooden frame she was hearing? She couldn't honestly fathom how a dog with paws was capable of such a feat, even if he retained the mentality of a human. Fingers were hard enough to work as it was, but padded feet? It was an alien concept.

Her coral tinted lips turned in an upwards smile as the door was opened, the visage of a visibly content dog meeting her own countenance with enthusiasm. She chuckled a bit to herself as she edged forward, her tail pushing aside the heavy wooden frame impeding her from entering the room. Slowly, she crossed the threshold, azure hair bouncing lightly against her shoulders as she wandered towards the nearest table, depositing the food in her arms before turning to face John, mouth still painted with a grin.

She leaned down, almost crouched as she introduced herself, her hand offered in a gesture of greeting as she spoke, "Ahhhh...You're so cute. You must be John," she chirped harmoniously, "I'm Dizzy, its nice to meet you," she continued, abandoning her handshake once realizing how utterly foolish she must have seened. Instead, she settled for a light pat on his head, fingers brazenly intertwining themselves in his soft for before being drawn carefully away, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

"So, where do you want it? I can put it on a plate for you if you have one...I didn't know what you wanted, so I brought you everything I had," she said, pressing a solitary digit to her lips, "I could try to cook it for you too."

Constantine had mostly utilized his teeth. It was far from an adequate substitute for hands with working opposible thumbs, but as he had found, they were precise and strong. Hardly dexterous but he could manipulate objects as needed. Better than his forelegs by a long shot.

Evenin', luv, John offered a headtilt, briefly shuffling a paw in response to the attempted handshake, enjoying the all-too-short petting session instead. No wonder dogs were always stupid happy; definitely could get used to this.

However, he was a mute and required the terminal to "speak," (he had attempted vocalizing, a series of whining syllabled yowls) which he got up and, snatching his pencil, teeth settling into the grooves, typed into an empty text box:

"lovely meeting you.

got plates. plates work. in right cabinet. don't cook, better raw.

A peal of laughter escaped from between Dizzy's lips as she watched John pick up a pencil, the tip of which protruded from his long snout like a serpentine tongue. She followed him leisurely as he made his way to the computer, her scarlet occulars growing wide with amazement as she watched him effortlessly type something into an empty dialogue box, snickering to herself at how awkward the situation really was.

"Hm, nice to meet you too," she said, dropping her hand on his head for a prolonged scratch, the extent of which laster until she finished reading the rest of what was written, the fact that it was a human she was touching, oddly, completely escaping her mind.

"Ah, okay...I'll get a plate then," she said, abandoning her temporary hold on the creature's soft fur as she rummaged through the designated cabinet, hands soon producing a plate. She walked back over to the table, depositing the copious amounts of meat on the dinnerware before setting it on the floor for John to eat, her nose slightly wrinkled at the prospect of ever tasting something else's flesh.

"Here you go. I didn't know how much you wanted, so I brought everything I had," she said, pulling out a nearby chair before comfortably settling herself on it, chin resting in the palms of her nimble hands as she rested her elbows on the table.

John was a prideful man. Normally elsewhere, as a human, he would have played his typical enigmatic hand, with the charismatic grin, the spark in his eyes, forbidden secrets, conjobs and all. He was not the sort to be tamed, to be slathered with affection, but Christ, he could not stop himself from enjoying this (uttering a brief whine of delight). While consciously he could not wag his tail, his body seemed to know how on its own, and it thumped on the floor, he having sat down to tap the message out.

He gave her a brief, cold nose to her palm, the soft tongue warm against her fingers, before digging with a wild intensity that could only be attributed to a very hungry animal. Bless Dizzy... Constantine had not eaten in awhile, and as the fridge was short on leftovers, acquiring food without a means to communicate had been a slight difficulty. Many had mistaken him for a stray and treated him as such.

Wolves were hearty hairy things, and he ate the large helping quickly.

Dizzy smiled amusedly as she felt John's tongue trail through her fingers, the memories of the animals she had befriended while exiled in that forest as a child drifting somewhere behind her blood-colored eyes. She had to blink the thoughts away, her head shaking slightly as she drew herself from the pain-laced feelings returning unwantedly to the forefront of her mind.

She watched patiently, steadily as the four legged animal consumed the sizeable portion of raw flesh, her own stomach turning at the thoughts of what creatures had been sacrificed to provide such a meal...but all beings had to eat, right? That's what she kept telling herself; at least, that's something Testament would have told her to say.

Testament.

How long had it been now since she'd seen him? Her eyes gazed at the ceiling as she swam through her recollections, counting the weeks they'd been apart on the tips of her fingers, a frown forming on her face when she couldn't draw a definative answer. Too long.

But at least he wasn't in the city. After all, in a way Testament had been her savior, the closest thing she had had to a brother, her only companion when the rest of the world had labeled her a dangerous outcast, put a bounty on her head, and then proceeded to order her execution. If he were here, that'd mean he would be in danger, and that'd the last place Dizzy wanted him to be.

Content with her reasoning, Dizzy returned her attention to John, mouth parting in a grin as she snickered at how quickly the wolf had consumed his meal, "Was it enough?" she asked, stretching her arms lazily over her head, her wings rustling gently, "And was it good?"

A forced wag (a pathetic shaking of his rear) and what could have been a nod; he, his ears tickled by the sound of her wings, was satisfied. Food was food and, oh, what was that Russian proverb again? A wolf was fed by his feet? Didn't apply to him. Licking whatever blood that might have been in the meat from his muzzle and jaws, he seized the pencil that he had previously set down once again:

"cant speak." (Well, that was obvious.) "any way you can listn w/o computr"

Constantine sat there, looking up at Dizzy upon finishing. His white belly was round, weighed with the meal. It was making him a little sluggish, but the anticipation of a walk, especially with a lovely girl, had offered him a little joy but he thrived off communication. Didn't just want to be a fat, spoiled animal on a leash. Scarab, who had visited previously, could speak to him through an unstable mental telepathy. Dizzy was something different (now, he had noticed the tail, the wings -- were those sorts of things so normal to him that he ignored them?), perhaps she might have an alternative to carrying the terminal with them?

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Log; Ongoing

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