"It's a bar," Constantine excused, and genuinely sounded like he meant it. "Fights happen." He'd seen worse. He was pretty damned positive Carol had, too.
He settled the case of wine down on the counter, leaned up against it to offer Carol the most charming smile he had in his arsenal. It was even better, really, because he knew she'd see through it or not give any kind of shits at all.
Quite honestly, he was into that.
"I'll give up when you stop flirting," he decided smoothly. "And 'course they are. Better yet The Clash and The Sex Pistols."