Gutter magic wasn't a bad description, frankly. John was self taught, and he bent nearly every rule in order to suit his own needs. Magic didn't need to be showy or pretty, it simply had to work, and there weren't many people at all who would say that John Constantine didn't make magic work for him.
The cigarette helper had done it's job and so John put it between his lips and lit it, all while watching Strange levitate -- or the cloak he was wearing do it for him. It was an interesting artifact, but not quite as interesting as the information he was being given. Hover cars. It'd be a dream come true if he'd ever learned how to drive.
"I've got enough sand in my shoes to last me a while," he griped. "I never say no to a lift. Hope you've got a translation spell handy if we're on some alien planet."