By the end of this heinous day, there was no other idiom to explain Clarice’s mood other than “pissed off”. The slightest smile today meant a flurry of flowers spewing forth from all around her, and it showed no signs of stopping. While she was thankful that John wasn’t here to witness this, a lot of other people had been. At least their laughter (hidden or explicit) had contributed towards a sharp decrease in spontaneous smiling.
Finally alone, as she had waited until everyone was gone to board the elevator up to ground level, Clarice leaned against the back, arms crossed. She raised a foot up to the wall too, and despite other people’s looks, didn’t lower it. She was absolutely not in the mood. Once outside, Clarice took in the fresh air and closed her eyes, but didn’t stop walking. When next she opened them she was inches from colliding with a vaguely blonde male shape, and so she put her arms forward...and hit him.
“Shit, sorry. I was distracted.”
John hadn’t expected to be collided with. No one really ever did, he stepped back, making sure the woman was going to be alright which it seemed she was. It was Clarice. She’d seemed like nice enough when he’d spoken to her but she did not look happy right now. And he didn’t think it was cause of the collision.
“You alright love?” he asked curiously.
He generally didn’t care if people were or weren’t. But he liked this one.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Clarice realized she hadn’t really ever been called ‘love’ before. It was curious, especially with the accent attached to it. While loathe to admit it, Clarice felt a little bit of a girlish giddiness at having the expression directed at her. Despite herself, she chuckled… and flowers spewed forth from her form like some kind of springtime fairy.
“Fuck,” she murmured, clamping her mouth shut immediately, a somber expression coming over her. Clarice lowered her arms and looked up at Constantine, a long-suffering look on her face. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry about the whole walking into you thing. It’s been a day.”
He knew he shouldn't laugh. He knew it was something Atlantis’y and weird and all but it was hilarious. Flowers shot from her mouth falling to the ground around them. Almost immediately she clamped up, this was clearly not the first time this had happened.
“Sorry. Sorry, that’s got to be less than fun.”
He didn’t know how he’d have coped with that. Hidden the hell away probably. He tried to stifle the laughter but didn’t quite manage. In an attempt to cover this, he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket with a shrug.
“Smoke? Might kill the flowers?”
There was no mistaking the upturned corners of his mouth, which Clarice frowned at. “Asshole, you’re laughing at me!” This time she pushed him on purpose, but not hard. She rolled her eyes into a close and sighed. “It’s fucking ridiculous. I’m so done.”
Tilting her head, Clarice pondered whether or not to smoke. She hadn’t had one in years, and even then only once in a while when it was such a busy, shitty day at the restaurant she washed dishes at that someone offered her one because they’d be having one too. Shrugging, she held out her hand. “Fuck it, why not?”
“I am, yeah. You have to admit you’d do the same in my position.” It was ridiculous. And he’d hate it, but it was happening to someone else so laughing was happening. But he was being at least a little bit nice offering the cigarette.
He handed it over, lighting his and waiting to light hers.
“From what we know about this place it’ll either last a day or a week. Let’s hope for the former, hey?” he said, still grinning. The permanent glare in her eyes was pretty damn funny.
While Clarice was about to protest she couldn’t in good conscience say for sure that she wouldn’t be laughing her ass off if this guy or anyone else materialized flowers around his face every time he smiled. She was just tired of it, and Atlantis’ obsession with pairing her up with flowers. Not wanting to outright admit it, however, Clarice simply exhaled through her nose and muttered “Whatever.”
Hoping he wouldn’t laugh for how awkwardly she might hold the cigarette, something she hadn’t done in years, Clarice held it up for him to light and half-remembering just how to do this kind of thing she pulled on it, allowing the smoke to hit her throat… and also her nose. And it itched and scratched and her face felt hot as she fought the need to cough for a few seconds before sputtering out a cloud of smoke followed by a copious amount of coughing.
She had inhaled some, however, and suddenly Clarice could clearly feel her pressure dropping, which caused her to step backwards and against the wall, doubled over to cough and to get blood rushing back to her head.
“I hadn’t- ugh- I hadn’t smoked in ye-” Another cough. “Years. Fuck.”
She kept making him laugh was the problem here. Which probably would make her laugh and then he’d laugh and it’d be some vicious cycle. He’d seen something on the telly once back home that called it a giggle loop.
“Not sure that helped, did it?” he said with a grin. “Probably should have taken it easy if you’ve not smoked in a while. Course I’m clearly a bad influence here so, go on, try again, don’t inhale so much at once, see how that goes?”
He was terrible. And her laughing flowers once was pretty funny. Twice would be funnier still.
It was good that the coughing prevented Clarice from laughing for the moment, she thought, even as her throat burned like hot coals or a house fire.
“Um… No.” She would give anything for a glass of water right now. But, stubborn as she was, Clarice didn’t snuff out the cigarette nor did she show signs of quitting. When he encouraged her, mirroring her thoughts, Clarice finally did smile. Damn. She rolled her eyes as she saw the tiny purple daisy-like flowers along with the bell shaped ones shoot out from all around her, and sighed. Then, Clarice took another drag and held it alright this time.
The smoke did rush to her head though, and Clarice was soon sliding down the wall and sitting on the ground with a sound of derision. “I forgot the lightheaded thing. Stop laughing. Tell me one time Atlantis fucked with you so I feel better.”
“Honestly, just the waffle thing that allowed me to get to know your delightful self.” he said leaning back and sliding down to sit beside her, happily smoking away as she took her next drag. Lightheaded was probably better than laughter right now, so really he was helping. He was delightful like that after all.
“Look, get your head together, we’ll finish these and I’ll buy you a drink, yeah? Keep you distracted until you can smile without the Chelsea bloody flower show.”
She really hadn’t found the most sympathetic audience for what was happening, but he liked her, she was a laugh. And he really would buy her a drink if she wanted one.
Scoffing, Clarice shook her head and tipped her cigarette to get rid of excess ash. “Really? That’s it? They’ve been on my ass with flowers pretty insistently. I don’t know why.”
Clarice blinked her eyes back into focus and continued smoking as her head returned to normal as much as possible. She shrugged at John’s proposal. He wasn’t exactly the type of asshole she couldn’t handle without wanting to punch, so he was cool.
“Sounds good. I don’t say no to free stuff.” She didn’t, she wasn’t wired to after the life she’d been leading. “So you’re a wizard type dude, right?”
“Could be worse things?” he told her. Having been a bad influence and mocking the flower thing, he felt the least he could do was help her a little. But he wasn’t a wizard.
“I’m a Demonologist, Master of the mystic arts, and other names besides but I mostly just answer to John.” he said with a grin. “How about you? You’ve got powers, don’t you? Apart from flower power I mean.”
“Well, yeah. Could always be worse. It’s just kind of annoying.” Clarice smoked some more, the act now coming back to her like riding a bike. Her brow shot up when he described himself as a demonologist, and Clarice turned her head to look at him with a mix of amusement and disbelief, ignoring the flowers yet again. “You… wait, you deal with demons? How’s that… what’s that like?”
While she rolled her eyes at the quip about flower power, Clarice decided to show off a little, and focused on opening a portal almost the size of her own sitting body right to the mini-fridge she had wished for with the coin, full of virgin piña-coladas. Clarice pulled open the door and pulled two out. Even if John didn’t want one, she’d have both. Proud of herself, she set both bottles between them and closed the portal. “Blink’s one of my names.”
He was impressed. It was a hell of a useful power, and not just for a fridge of...what looked for all the world like some faffy cocktail he’d heard of but couldn’t put a name to.
“Very nice, but no ta, if you could portal to Dive and grab me a good whiskey…” he suggested hopefully, mostly kidding. Mostly.
As for her question.
“What’s it like? Messy, painful, often twisted and more likely winning by the skin of my teeth. It’s a race, how many can I put back in hell before they get me. Though, here...I suppose the game’s on hold.”
The portal closed after a while, in time for John to compliment it yet refuse the bottles. Clarice shrugged and opened one of the bottles, taking a swig. “I discovered here that it’s my favorite drink. Virgin piña colada. And then, I had a wish so I wished for a mini-fridge full of it. I wished for other things first but they must have been too powerful.”
She waved her bottle around a bit, taking a drag of her cigarette. She was taking it slow after the first drag. “I can blink us straight to Dive though. Wait, there’s no smoking in there, is there?”
While drinking (and smoking) Clarice imagined everything John described, making faces as the urgency of his demon dealings was impressed upon her. She wanted to ask more, ask everything but didn’t want to intrude either. “No demons here? Are you bored or relieved?”
“Probably not, can’t smoke anywhere fun these days.” he grumbled. They’d go there once she’d finished up. Be an interesting way to end the meeting and might just traumatise one of the bar staff. Be a bit of fun if nothing else.
“Finish up and then blink us over?” he suggested, smoking away quite happily waiting for her to get through hers.
“Would you believe, a little bit of both? I mean, I’m not short of work here, just not what I’m used to, and it does mean if any demons do show up causing trouble they are going to have a very very bad day. Kept on my toes if nothing else. How about you?.”
Clarice almost chuckled at the grumbling, but schooled herself with only a single bluebell springing forward from her split-second smile. Saluting him with two fingers as a way to say she would do exactly as he had asked, she continued smoking, careful not to do it too fast.
“I would believe it, yeah. Back home I was with the Mutant Underground, ‘cause people like me,” she motioned to her face, where her eyes should be noticeable, “are hunted down and thrown in a hole for being possibly eventually maybe dangerous. So we help them - they helped me when I broke out of jail even - and it’s this constant cat and and mouse thing, getting people to safety, keeping anyone from getting caught…”
She finished smoking, finally, and threw the cigarette away. “Here I feel safe, well fed, well showered, I have a job, no one hurls slurs at me, there’s no shock collars, people you love dying to protect you…”
Clarice stopped herself and eyed John before standing up and putting the leftover bottle in her back pocket. “Let’s go.”
As per usual, Clarice stood back a bit and tore up a slit in the air before her, pulling both edges apart. Slowly, but not as slowly as it once had been, Dive showed up in the portal, patrons mildly shocked as she sidestepped to let John through. “After you.”