Flight Correction

October 23, 2014: Constantine shows up with something for Jim. Smoking is a bad habit, right?

Stark Towers Guest Quarters

A combination of both utilitarian and posh, this nigh-unto five star hotel room shows signs of having been lived in for an extended stay by the occupant.



Mood Music:

Another day, another dollar. 'Jimmy Boy', as the intermittent magus John Constantine calls him, has been running about attempting to find clothing in his size after another shift at the salvage yard in south Jersey. With several bags of appropriately sized clothing, his goal tonight is to get enough of them put away so he's not tripping bags come the morning. Of course, that would involve… opening the closet…


Constantine walks out the closet door just as Jim opens it, coming up short about six inches from the man. He blinks and looks up at the fellow. "Hey, thanks for getting the door for me." He reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a cigarette from a beautifully engraved cigarette wallet, fishes one out, and lights up, exhaling sideways. "You mind?" he asks after a beat, gesturing with his cigarette-bearing hand for Jim to move and let him into the apartment.


Jim's kinda torn. On one side, fair's fair, after all, Jim DID sort of visit the House the last time, so Constantine showing up isn't as odd as it might be but the cigarette coming out and lighting up… he's never bothered to ask if Stark Industries had a no-smoking policy or not, and he hopes at least for the moment that the extinguishers or fire suppression systems don't kick in.

"Mind a little bit, 'cause I'm not a smoker, but hey, clothes are gonna need to be cleaned at some point anyways. Come on in… at least to the temp lodgings."

Jim makes his way out of the path of the itinerant magus.

"Gonna guess that you've gotten something done in your elsewhen, or why you dropped in? Or was that a latter or earlier version of you?"


"I try not to cross my own timeline if I can help it," Constantine tells Jim, ignoring the man's admonitions about smoking. He looks around the temporary digs with an approving nod. "Nice place. Bit too sleek for my liking," Constantine remarks. "Give me a warm fireplace and a cup of tea any day of the week."

The door snaps out of Jim's hand, cutting the flood of firelight off as the door slams shut. Constantine finishes his inspection of the place, then holds a hand vaguely in Jim's direction. He shows his open palm, the back of his hand, his open palm, opens and closes a fist, and out drops a little wire-ground crystal on a knotted length of cord. "One ambush stopper, just for you," Constantine says, holding it towards Jim. "Won't stop a bullet, but it'll slow down anything that's coming at you with enough inertia to cause real harm. Don't know how long it will hold out for, though, so don't stand around to test it."


"The fireplace is coming out in the next patch and the tea, well, I'm not going to steal Pepper's private stash. I happen to like my job and the fact that she's putting me up until we get this thing resolved." Jim smirks a bit, then nods as the somewhat modern room is examined. "It's not much. Then he nods at the crystal. "You bleed on that a bit? Looks a bit coppery on the one wire?"

Even though there's no power behind it, Jim makes a 'cleansing' sort of motion with his left hand and accepts the corded crystal. "That's all I'm asking for. A one-off to keep me from getting my skull splattered and get the heck outta dodge. Who knows, maybe it might even be enough to let cooler heads prevail. Not that I'm really counting on that, she did seem pretty driven on this whole vendetta thing."

He moves to the refrigerator. "I can't offer you much, but I do have a couple of dark ales on hand if you'd like one? From the Midwest, some little micro place, not sure how they got here and haven't had the nerve to try them out without someone standing by?"


"Sure, why not." Constantine accepts one of the micro-brews, takes a sip, swishes, then takes another sip. "That's not bad," he says grudgingly. He wanders over to a window and looks at the view. "Tell me about this woman trying to kill you," he says, staring at his reflection. "She sounds like she's something dangerous- something from your partner's time ought to be, to have survived all this time."


Jim nods and takes a sip from the other bottle. Nope, no poisoning here, save the gradual incineration of one's liver.

"Goes by the name Shayera Hol, says she's from some place called 'Thanagar', swings a mace of all things — not the spray, actual fucking medieval weapon — and is strong. If I'd have to wager a reckon, I'd say about five to ten times as strong as the partner. And I'm not sure if she's survived or is just a descendant, the bird ain't talking and I'm not suicidal enough to ask the woman about it. If you're right, though… well, Corv's put its time on enlightenment. Can only imagine what it'd be like if someone put all that time on martial training?"

Be effin' scary, is what it'd be!

The portly fellow's brief reverie is shaken by a polite proper British chap.


"Mister Reha, you are aware that this is a—Oh! Mister Constantine. Miss Potts has indicated that this is a no-smoking environment. I'm sorry, sir, but you should douse that before countermeasures are enacted."

Is that a warning hint of snark in the voice?

The proper voice does not appear to have a body to go with it, and instead appears to be emanating from speakers strategically placed around the room.


Constantine nods at Jim's assertion. "Dangerous, yeah," Constantine acknowledges. "That name, Shaynera Hol. Why does that sound familiar." He frowns down at his cigarette, which he's looking at when JARVIS addresses him. "Bloody computers, worse than the House. At least I can smoke at home," he yells into the air. "Also, weigh the dangers between me smoking in here and a wizard walking into here in a bad mood because he can't light up a fag, and accidentally getting a spell wrong and causing a massive arcane explosion because darn my luck, I was off my game that day," Constantine informs the air. "Or just finding your central… whatever, mind bank and seeing how much lightning I can channel into it."

He turns and looks back at Jim. "I need to look into this a bit more. Something about that name is bothering me and I can't put a finger on it."


"Shayera Hol. I couldn't tell you, sounded sort of exotic. I mean, like foreign-exotic not alien exotic?" He shrugs a bit, then shakes his head.

"Please don't pick a fight with JARVIS, he's good people and he keeps things on an even keel around here? And please don't threaten him?"

Jim face-palms as John goes off on his rant about the very bad things he wants to do to around here 'by accident' because magi are pissy that way. He gives a sort of helpless glance to the one camera, then shakes his head, hoping that the advanced intelligence can interpet enough to not have the sprinklers trigger all over his brand new clothes.

"Your best bet for that research is in the libraries of the House, right?"

Okay, it's a rather blatant 'push' to get John to leave before World War Three erupts and Jim not only gets evicted but loses his job because of Cranky Mage Syndrome. "Let me know if you run across something nifty?"


"Mister Reha, I'm obligated to inform you that the smoking has not ceased and to secure any electronic equipment you have exposed." That'd be JARVIS again, trying to be nice.

The portly fellow looks at the back of said mad magus and prays he leaves or snuffs the butt, either way…


Constantine gestures at the computer's camera with a gesture that's universally rude in Western civilization, standing in the closet doorway once more with the House's warm light on his back. "Piss up a rope, you overbuilt VCR," Constantine orders the automated butler. He turns at looks at Jim. "Let me know what happens, all right? I'm kind of curious if that will even work. Hopefully she doesn't have some kind of, I don't know, magical mace that can smash through it." He shrugs through his trenchcoat and heads into the closet, waving his cigarette holding hand over his shoulder. "Cheerio, mate. Until next time." The door slams shut and once again, it's Jim's guest room closet, and the irritating wizard is gone.


Jim has the briefest of moments of respite as he nods to the thankfully departing magus then face-palms again, nodding. "Worst case scenario is it won't, and you'll be reading about me in the obituaries." He smiles happily to try and not reveal the false bravado he's portraying. As John departs, there's a few moments… which uses to desperately get everything under some sort of cover before the man-made rains come!

And then the proper tone comes back over again. "Mister Reha, I detect that the offensive incendiary device has departed. I will notify Support Services to properly cleanse your room. Also, I have logged Mister Constantine's threats against the facility. Do you wish me to notify Miss Potts and Mister Stark?"

Jim slumps a bit. It's not like he can hide this from them.

"Notify them, but put it on a lower priority please, Mister JARVIS? Mister Constantine has left and I'm sure they have much more important things to worry about."

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