(Untitled)

[afriendtosell]

WHO: John Constantine (afriendtosell ) and EVERYONE EVER.
WHERE: EVERYWHERE. (See below)
WHEN: 5/25/11
WARNINGS: NONE THUS FAR...
SUMMARY: John in the city, getting CR like a pro.
FORMAT: [ Quick like this. ]

Comments

somewhere all seedy | like one in the morning

[spadassin]

[Sitting on rooftops is cliché, but it works when on the lookout for criminals. Everything seemed quiet at the moment; Scathach had already roamed his area once the night before, and it seemed as if people had gotten the hint. But you never know.]

[afriendtosell]

[ John is most likely traveling from one bar to another at this point. He isn't sure he should be, considering the hour, but there's only so long he can stand Irishmen without being reminded of -- ]

Sod it, fucking sod it.

[ He realizes he's about to get mugged the moment the arseholes fall in behind him in the alleyway. He should've been paying attention to where he was going -- stupid, stupid. ]

I don't have shite for you two twits. Get lost.

[spadassin]

[She catches his familiar scent, even though it's almost smothered by alcohol. The redhead jumps to the next closest roof and spots him. She perches on the ledge, looking down at him and the two muggers. She wonders if he can take care of himself, or if she should step in. Might as well wait a moment or two, and see.]

[afriendtosell]

[ Obviously, his threat doesn't endear him any. They start advancing, and once takes out a switchblade. Constantine takes a step back. ]

An old man to get your jollies off, eh? [ He shakes his head. ] Tough young sprogs.

[spadassin]

[Scathach raises an eyebrow at the knife; how boring. But when she sees him step back, she decides that she might as well end this quickly. Drawing her nunchaku from her belt, Scatty lightly jumps from the roof, landing just in front of Constantine. Without a word, she spins her weapon and darts forward, hitting their sides one-two-three, and they fell one-two-three.]

[afriendtosell]

[ It all happens so fast that he can barely recognize what's going on. One moment the brats are about to have his way with him, then they're sprawled out on the floor, groaning in pain and clutching at their sides. ]

--Stone the fucking crows.

[ It's Scathach. He marvels at how -- well, how perfect she is in the midst of battle. He can't do much more than gawk. ]

[spadassin]

[She gives a little theatrical spin of the nunchaku before casually shoving them back into her belt. She turns to him and, seeing his expression, gives a smug little smile. She loves that look.]

Good evening, John.

[afriendtosell]

[ And his composure comes back to him, finally. He dusts off his jacket and unceremoniously kicks one of the thugs in the side. ]

Wotcher, Scathach, you bloody amazing glory of a woman.

[spadassin]

[Her face might have flushed a bit, but it was dark enough where no normal human could see. She gave a half shrug.]

You flatter me.

[afriendtosell]

It's what I do.

[ He's smiling. ]

You damn near saved me arse, luv. [ He kicks the guy again, for good measure. ] Little sprogs picked the wrong day to act tough.

[spadassin]

[He gets a little laugh.]

You don't think you could have taken them?

[afriendtosell]

[ He looks at her with a "are you serious" look. ]

Luv, I'm forty pushing fucking one-hundred and eighty on me best days. They would've gutted me like a fish come to market.

[spadassin]

[she gives an amused snort, certainly not the most ladylike of sounds. but she's definitely teasing.]

You wouldn't have tried hard enough, then.

[afriendtosell]

Wot can I say, I'm a lover, not a fighter.

[spadassin]

I guess that's one difference between us, hm?

[afriendtosell]

Oh, sure luv. Let's go with that. It's the only right obvious one, that.