Constantine lit another cigarette now that they were behind some walls that offered some reprieve from the sand in the wind and on the ground, and looked around them with curiosity and interest that he didn't bother trying to hide.
In a place like this, it seemed reasonable that this was a hub of some kind -- this planet didn't seem worth living on and John very much figured that everyone else here was well aware of it too. But hubs were good. Busy. Usually discreet and fairly anonymous.
"Let's," he agreed, following the music and stepping into what could only have possibly have been a bar with no hesitance.
It was dark. And loud. A little smoky (and John was adding to that) and more than a little dirty. The sort of place that people could find just about anything, he reckoned, so long as they knew what to ask for and who to ask.
And some of the drinks were neon. John glanced over his shoulder at Strange and raised an eyebrow before moving to the bar.