InsaneJournal

Who: John Constantine and Willa Harper
When: Late Tuesday, 3/2
Where: John's Apartment
What: Round 2
Ratings/Warnings: Language, references to: torture, attempted murder and cults



Getting into Constantine's room was supposed to be a sort of accomplishment, but it didn't feel like much of one. A lame back-alley wizard or no, the guy always had something up his sleeve. And handy equipment. Equipment she was pretty sure she could put to better use. Or maybe she just wanted to tweak his nose a bit after all the shit he put her through. For once it was legitimately hard to say, even if she tended to lean toward spite. In her own defense she hadn't go out looking for the man once she heard he was stuck in purgatory as well.

It had all been chance.

She spotted him while she was out one night. She'd been after some choleric resonance at the time, looking for it in others but seeing him had caused her own to nearly bubble over. She'd nearly acted on it then, though knowing how foolish that would have been was what stopped her. Instead she hadn't been able to resist following him the rest of that evening, finding herself keeping close watch on what he did, who he spoke to and what he bought. It was surprisingly informative but it didn't give her a complete picture of what he was up to, something that seemed more and more important the more she thought of him and how they had been breaths away from killing one another before. Not only did she want whatever handy things he had hidden about the place but she also needed to know exactly what he was up to.

That meant breaking into his place.

It didn't take her long to find his place and unsettlingly it took her less time to get his door unlocked. That should have been a sign that something was up but she was so pleased with herself that she didn't realize what was going on until she felt the magic shift around her and it was far too late for her to try to get clear. Gravity trap, it had to be, nothing else would have her floating in the air and she let out a stream of pretty vile curses. It didn't have to slow her down much, she wasn't nearly as accomplished as Constantine but she was clever too and had some tricks up her sleeve, she could figure this all out, but that didn't help with the feeling of disgust and disappointment she felt. She should have known better, she should have paid better attention, she should have paid somebody to shoot him in the head. Those thoughts were all very hard to get past.

Of course, she'd seemingly gotten past a few of them by the time Constantine came back. She was still there, floating in the air with some of his more interesting magical bits and bobs lazily orbiting around her. At some point she'd gotten her pack of clove cigarettes out of her tight, ripped jeans and lit up as she perused an older-looking book with a barely phased expression, not even looking up when John came in. "You've got that haunted as fuck library that you could raid and maybe discover some actual important magic and instead you're here bothering with this basic-ass bullshit. Figured you already knew all about illusions, must be growing forgetful in your old age."