tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; wee hours of Sept. 11
Rating; PG? language? gore?
Characters; Scarab (

noh_dancer), The Corinthian (

bitingnightmare), John Constantine (

silkcutremix)
Summary; TBA
Log;
It wasn't so much the pain, rather The Corinthian wanted that wound healed as soon as possible. He felt vulnerable having to hide it, for it reminded him of what had happened, what still made little sense to him. For now he'd settled with just queling the headache in the shower, once spotless towel now completely tainted. The laughing magician was still dumpster diving for who knows what, a mop did he say? Maybe John would leave him alone after sniffing out some grub. The Nightmare felt... he didn't know how he felt, only what he needed. Because Scarab had mentioned stitching, he hoped she could employ her specialized skills on this visit.

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Strike being very well acquainted, they'd met in person only days ago. They did know of each other, possibly from day one. The Corinthian knew the Constantine bloodline personally, and John was occasionally plagued by nightmares. And besides, wasn't his reaction to his own fatal wound unorthodox anyway, he wouldn't bother keeping someone around who fainted at the sight of blood, hell anyone who wretched at the thought would be swallowed by The City whole. The Corinthian looked between the two then tilted his head back just slightly.

*Scarab, this is John Constantine.*

-Constantine, this is Scarab.-

Yes he knew her, would he allow a random stranger to get wrist deep in his neck?? The Nightmare didn't seem interested in elaborating anymore details. Perhaps the two could hit it off and chat amongst themselves while she sutured his throat. If anything he was avoiding incriminating himself.

He knew she had been studying him. Let her decide what she will. A second glance of his own informed him that she was Asian and young, perhaps too much so despite the moment of lust.

God-fucking-dammit, Constantine, what were you thinking? She still was quite beautiful. Exotic.

"Pleasure to meet you, Scarab," was the reply in his usual smokey voice despite the inner turmoil tumbling about his head. He had done a good job of keeping it out of things. Been doing that for years. He was experienced.

John took the gloves, indeed noticing that hand as he was observant (it kept him alive after all these years), but fortunately for Scarab, it had been the least of his concerns, other than that he had to momentarily ponder on how she lost the fingers in the first place. Before he slid them on, he remembered to wash, more out of what little he knew of medical procedure than for the nightmare's benefit.

There was more to this Scarab, yes. That was very obvious.

"So," he eyed the work being done on the Corinthian's throat, "you said you needed another pair of hands, right?"

"Yup. Here -" she handed John the half-empty package of sponges, and the 'stats that held the one currently in use.

"- take this, and when I start up agian, keep the area clean."

Thankfully she was about halfway finished stitching the outer wound, and the addition of someone who could keep the blood under control would make things go much faster.

"I really don't know how you are still bleeding, Alex", she commented with a note of asperity, as the next press of the needle brought forth enough blood to obscure the wound and make it difficult to see where to cut.
Smiling her thanks to John who was quick with the sponge, she kept her eyes on what she was doing.
" So, John, I don't suppose you remember how you got to the city?"
Best to keep the questions neutral and totally innocent to start with.

He didn't even have to look at the magus to know what was going on in his mind. The want was in his voice, the touch of Desire, and The Corinthian knew its ways well. But what was it that Scarab had mentioned before.... a significant other, who also happened to be a Londoner? This business wasn't for his interference anyway, he was just a patient, watching the nurse try his hand at wooing the doctor who so deftly sewed his wound shut.

*It's complicated.*

-Not even real blood, I'll bet.-

Both eyes offered an unhelpful explanation. At least maybe he thwarted John's plans about *bathing* in the stuff.

"Hnnn."

Well, thank goodness, that helped him take his mind off current things for a moment. Aside from the general strangeness that would usually creep in and out of his life, he could all-too-clearly remember his puzzlement regarding the whole night and morning following his arrival. Get talking:

"This is going to sound a little odd, but bloody 'ell, it's in no short supply here." He allowed himself a weak smile. "This, ehhh, monkey came to me, in me bed with a knife (shit, that didn't sound right), told me I was doomed to be holed up in m'bedroom lest I get swept away here. Thought he was full of it, but as you can see, he wasn't. Landed on our toothy-eyed friend here on the other side and that's that.

"Life's a funny thing, innit?"

He had forgotten about the "misworded" wish of the Corinthian, although whether the nightmare had figured it out was something he did not know.

Scarab paused halfway through tying off a suture, and had to blink at John.

"A monkey... with a knife?"

OOOO-K

His story earned him a pair of raised eyebrows and a slightly bewlidered look, but after a moment of consideration she decided it was no stranger than some of the other methods of entry she had heard of.

Shaking herself mentally, she turned back to what she was doing.

" Well, I can honestly say that is the strangest way I've heard of for getting here so far.
Most people have absolutely no memory of coming here, or they just remember dying, then waking up somewhere in the city."

Maybe hunt down this monkey and hold it at gun point for a return trip?

Ya...sounds insane even to me.

She chose, for the moment, to not think too hard on the look Constantine had given her when he had first entered the little bathroom, there would be time to evaluate it's meaning later.
She wasn't completly dense, and had spent a good majority of her life and career around men ( and a few women) who found her attractive.
Most of the time it was easier to ignore the impressions they emitted on first meetings, because with westerners especially, it was her seemingly exotic asian features.
If they found out what she did for a living, or simply that she was a bit of a tomboy, they lost interest quickly.

Thats not to say that she didn't take a second glance at John herself ( she always did have a thing for Brits.) but there were more pressing issues just now...like the neck wound on her friend, and his imminent ass-chewing.
Scarab was letting Alex have a respite while she patched him up, but once he was properly doctored she planned to find out just what he did, who he pissed off and why he seemed to have done exactly what she was worried he was going to do on thier first meeting: go looking for a fight.

Yeah that's right, show Scarab what a bit of a daft bugger he was, and furthermore present how much he was in the woman's Kool Aid hah. He wasn't one to overlook her beauty either, he knew she was and likely could have any man eating out the palm of her hand, well... almost any. Still he remained silent while they exchanged words, interesting glances. just don't lose a knot in his neck or anything like that. As for chewing him out regarding how he received the wound, The Corinthian didn't believe he'd gone actively looking for a fight. He... followed a calling, the voice of another like his own, his job, his life's work. It was hard to explain and he knew that in any case it was his fault. Scarab's teeth might be sharp, but his hide was tough, he could take a verbal lashing as long as his neck was properly taken care of first.

So despite the leprechauns and catboys, Constantine was still the odd one out. That should have been no surprise.

"Then trust me on this one, luv: I'm alive. Was alive when I left London. Still alive now, unless we're all dead here." Another weak smile, avoiding Scarab's gaze. Admittingly, he was embarrassed. Was he that desperate?

((OOC: Yeah, desperate for some eye-toothy goodness- auuh!))

Who'd want a withered old tosser like you? he reminded himself ((OOC: Being the emo he is.)) Despite his "rebirth" from the Three, despite the immortal infernal blood, despite his bloodline's penchant for a long life, his age still was creeping up on him. What was he again? 52? 53? 54?

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Log; Ongoing

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