It wasn't as if an illusion was impossible. There were at least a few folks around who were relatively good at them, in fact. John Constantine was one of those people, actually.
But his illusions weren't just for shits and giggles, and they certainly done at his own detriment. No. This was real, a real place in the middle of a nowhere that quite possibly hadn't been real before the first person showed up. It was strange. And after a while, strangely boring.
This was new though. John stopped in front of the kid, cigarette hanging from his mouth and hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket (even though it was far too hot out for a jacket to be a good idea). He hadn't seen anyone quite so young show up here before, and didn't much like the idea of it now that it was presented to him. "You new?" He asked with a squint, even though it was obvious that the child was.