Well that was a new nickname John had never heard before, though he supposed being engrossed on your phone at the bar defeated the purpose of coming there to get sloshed and forget about what was on the bloody network to begin with. In a less than quick motion and rather begrudging manner Constantine had set his phone in his pocket and reached for a cigarette to hand over to the stranger he hadn't even laid eyes on. He didn't hold a high regard for those who needed to bum cigarettes but the sooner the tosser was out of his face the better. Save for when he actually turned to look at the kid he recoiled his offer, having an inner turmoil of trying to remember the legal age to smoke in America before remembering...he didn't care to waggle fingers.
"This better not come back to me," he said with a huff, setting it down on the bar in front of the boy, taking a drag from his own cigarette and sinking down into the barstool. The end to a perfect week would be getting reprimanded for giving a boy a cigarette and losing the job he worked hard to keep in the name of keeping a promise to his dead brother. Who morbidly died before being born in the lovely dreams he was having.
More gin and tonic down the hatch! "Isn't this the place they'd be checking for little buggers like you?" No one was manning the door but the sod behind the bar didn't look like he'd be losing his job over a fake id any day now. They all looked like burly bastards John wouldn't bother picking a problem with.