"I get that impression too," Constantine said of Stephen's assumption. That stood to reason, he supposed. Not that he'd been on a ton of different planets or anything, but he'd been to places other than earth and there was always someone else wandering around who looked human, even if they weren't, not exactly.
Hell, he was half on that list, himself.
He took another drag of his cigarette before flicking the butt off into the sand in the direction from whence they came, readjusted the jacket he had slung over one of his arms, and stuck his other hand in the pocket of his slacks, looking for all the world like he belonged here. Blending it. It was incredibly important when it came to situations like these. Being new and foreign just got you eaten alive.
And off toward the city they went, tromping through the sand like either of them had the shoes for it, and wandering straight through that hole in the wall opening. Inviting, but not really.
It was sort of funny to hear that Stephen was mostly just looking for a Tesco's, although John didn't see any reason to judge, there. Sometimes medicine was just what the doctor ordered. Literally. "Sorcerers are people too," he responded rather blithely. "We'll find you something, though who know's if it'll translate at all, eh?"
As for himself -- well. John just shrugged even as he glanced around buildings built of stone, creatures that he'd never seen before (some of which he didn't care to see again). "I like the adrenaline of it."