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WHO: Johanna Constantine (

keepgodwaiting) & a variety of appointments
WHAT: Autumnal and spooky hijinks
WHERE: Around!
WHEN: End of September, into October
WARNINGS: Probably demon shit in the Peter thread; probably social awkwardness in the Steven thread; more if they come up

I swear to God I saw her howlin' at the sky
She ain't out to get you but she's better on your side
And she don't wanna be anybody else
She's a woman in total control of herself
It's such a wonder to be under her spell
What a woman in total control of herself

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"Oh. Well I suppose if you put it that way, I've... got a rather unprofessional one..." They don't really talk business. He doesn't do business with God. Maybe he's tried bartering once or twice, teetering somewhere in between those denial and bargaining phases. But even those were fairly unprofessional conversations. Steven is very up close and personal and open about just about everything.

"Some of them are nasty buggers. And keeping things professional is right." She would have had a much better relationship with Khonshu. More equal footing and all.

"But some of them are genuinely-- alright. I think." Not as many as Steven would like, but nobody gets to pick and choose who decides to drop in and out of their lives.

Ah, right, that reminds her.

"I guess you have some hands-on experience, haven't you. Osiris and all?"

"Well, never met that particular bloke." He's met some others though. He's willing to bet that Osiris might be a bit of a wanker too, but he'd never say that out loud. Even if there might be a less than zero chance that Osiris would be listening in on them right now.

"How's it working out then? You taking things into your own hands." They say if you want something done properly you should do it yourself and all. Steven-- trusts other people more than he trusts himself sometimes, and he knows full well what he's good at and what he should leave to the experts, so he doesn't necessarily subscribe to that belief.

"I know meself, I'd only make things worse. You look more than capable though, of handling evil and. Whatever else."

"Oh, right, you said you didn't see him. I think if he brought you back to life that counts as hands-on, though."

It's a question that under a lot of circumstances, she'd answer with a smirk and a breezy one-liner, maybe some innuendo about taking things into her hands. But it gives her a moment's pause, this time. Is being depressed and lonely and guilty enough to ask strangers to fuck you so you forget about what a failure you feel the stance of someone who is "capable" or "working out"?

"Reckon I do okay, sometimes," she says, rather quiet. "And when it does go tits up, at least I know who to blame."

"It's not your fault," Steven insists, even though he doesn't know anything about her track record and anything that she's rightly or wrongly blamed herself for.

"You're not responsible for all the bad things in the world. Nor all the good things either. We're all just out here doing our best, hey?" And maybe there are people in the world, in the proverbial out there somewhere who make it their prerogative to do nasty things to other people, purposefully or out of ignorance. Or maybe they're just downright completely mental. This world is not full of saints. But Steven chooses to believe that most people aren't like that.

He chooses not to see her in that light, unless she can somehow convince him otherwise.

Johanna blinks at him, taken aback by the insistence.

"You can't know what is and isn't my fault."

A beat.

"Apart from 'all the bad things,' yeah, I may think pretty highly of myself but I'm not going to take credit for the Tories."

Ugh, not even an exorcism could rid the evil in the Tories, come on... they don't count!

"I just think-- I mean, I don't want you to be too hard on yourself, is all." Not that he'd compare her to Marc but she does have that eau de self-loathing about her.

Or maybe that's just the smell of the sticky floor of the local pub...

Hey, por que no los dos.

After a beat, she smiles and shakes her head.

"Don't worry about me, squire. I won't be."

She will be exactly as hard on herself as she thinks she deserves, and that's a promise.

"None of this was the point. Which one did you think was the lie, again?"

"You said you'd always wanted a white wedding?" He's not going to reopen that hole that he dug earlier so he'll just leave it at that. Look, he's even being polite enough not to mention that older brother she so casually mentioned.

"Do you-- even want a wedding? Or something... romantic and sweet at least. Someone you can spend your life with, that you only argue with sometimes. Remembers your birthdays and buys you nice things and travels with you. That's nice innit?"

Her eyebrows go up. Steven's ability to distract her from making a point by just being incredibly genuine is really something.

"Someone that expects you to tell them where you are all the time? Someone that gets shirty when you forget their birthday? Someone that'll make it your fault if they're not happy?"

"N-- well-- I mean. Not. Exactly?" Steven's face scrunches up and his shoulders slump a bit. Yikes. They don't talk about those boo boos in those romance novels Steven occasionally picks up.

"It's a. Compromise. But it doesn't have to be combative most of the time!" Because, you know, he's such a lady killer with his vast experience with women and he knows exactly what he's talking about.

Oh buddy.

"Don't think it's in the cards for me," she says, smiling ruefully. "Trust me, though, I don't mind. I'm the sort of person who'll tell you we're playing Two Truths and a Lie and tell you three lies -- I don't think that makes for a very solid marriage."

"...oh." Now she's confusing him. He thought the game involved telling him two truths. So she's not from Birmingham and she doesn't have a brother? His eyebrows furrow deeply as he tries to think back about their previous conversations and whether she made anything up then too. It's hard to tell when everyone else is in on some game that Steven isn't playing...

Well, he can't be angry when he's been lying about Marc too. What he means to him. The nature of their existence. And he thinks she'll tell him the truth in her own time, if she wants to. He's not going to make anyone do anything they're not comfortable with.

"That's a shame. You might like a brother. Especially if he's like Marc. Not me though, I'm just annoying. And needy. And everyone hates a family member with dietary restrictions."

Yeah, arguably, she told him four lies.

"I do have a sister."

Aaaaand they don't need to talk about how annoying Cheryl is.

"But you believed me, right? 'Cause I didn't beat around the bush trying to convince you I was telling you the truth. And I gave you something more interesting to focus on."

"Yeah. Yeah I-- I think I get it..." Although he's had such a hard time lately telling fantasy apart from reality. It's really taxing to harp on and on about the truth when nobody believes or even wants to listen. And while Steven would have no trouble making up something fantastical, he's not really-- liar material. And he's not sure she could teach him to be better at it either...

"I'm not sure you could ever make a great liar out of me. But I appreciate the advice?" This is how it all starts, innit? Steven falling in with the wrong crowd, making the worst friends. All those poor life decisions are surely soon to follow.

Constantine is, indeed, a bad influence. Ask anybody.

"It physically pains me to see you lie badly, Steven." She smiles -- she's teasing. Mostly.

"And maybe it'll come in handy. You know, if you ever need to give Marc the slip or something. Does he know you're out with me tonight?"

Steven frowns and shakes his head. But then he lifts a hand as if to stop her.

"But-- I don't need his permission. To go anywhere or do anything. I mean, that would be weird, wouldn't it?" They have a weird enough dynamic without calling any attention to it, honestly.

"He's just-- worried, y'know. Like a normal level of worry. I would be too. This place is like. Not that safe? Or nice. I mean it's nice, but not. It's weird? Not like home."

"It'd be weird."

And Johanna's still not convinced that it isn't that kind of weird, with Steven describing Marc as "adamant" about him not going places. But she supposes she'll drop it. There's a limit to the help you can give someone who doesn't want it.

"Yeah, it's weird." She sighs. "Where in London do you live? ..."

She'll steer the conversation towards more normal small talk, if she can: just two Londoners chatting about neighborhoods, traffic, tourists and pubs. A spot of nostalgia in a strange place.

"I'm in Brixton, living in--" 'me mum's flat', he can't say anymore, because that's not true, and his eyebrows knit together as his gaze trails away, trying to figure out exactly what is going on with that flat. Is it Marc's? Or is he paying crazy rent with bags of illegally-obtained money? Steven's never gotten a rental bill in the mail, or met with the real landlord. Maybe Marc did buy it. Come to think of it, he's not far from Layla...

"Well I... thought it was me mum's flat..." Something to no doubt 'Hey Marc?' about later. One of many things he should be asking more questions about.

"What about yourself?"

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