One golden glance of what should be

[zatanna_z]

A certain esuoh on a certain teerts in San Francisco. A certain igam is jogging up the few stairs to the porch, humming under her breath as she fumbles with the front door keys to let herself in

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[johns_demons]

Sitting quite comfortably as he enjoys a fine cuban cigar is Papa Midnite, the bokor cursed to live. Zatanna's entrance is met with a smile that holds little warmth but a considerable amount of pleasure.

"Zatanna Zatara. It's quite a pleasure to meet you."

He blows a noxious cloud of smoke and regards her as one might assess a prized racing horse.

"Constantine really was an idiot to loose a woman of such beauty and power. This should be interesting."

[zatanna_z]

She blinks, looking like an angry, landed fish. The expression is only there for a moment before her lips tighten together. She advances towards the couch and her intruder, her voice as stormy as the look on her face.

"Excuse me?! Get the hell out of my house! I won't tell you twice."

He mentioned John. She quickly wonders if Gemma was right.

All though John told her about Papa Midnight, she's never met him and hasn't put two and two together yet.

[johns_demons]

He takes another drag and blows it in her face.

He gestures to the floor before him.
"Have a seat."

[zatanna_z]

She coughs, waving the smoke away, then grits her teeth preparing a not so subtle incantation for after telling him off.

"Fu-"

The expletive gets cut off by her gasp as she feels something inside, something not physical get a tug. Her eyes widen with open fear as she finds her body complying.

"...what the hell is going on?!"