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[matermali]

USERNAME: HIDDEN MISS IVES "Take care with what you say. Our enemies may be listening." TEXT • AUDIO • VIDEO • ACTION • OVERFLOW

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[matermali]

While I've nothing to say against when a person drinks, I did in fact intend to mean eleven o'clock at night.

-> action

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Oh. That tracks. Jesus, she should just switch her sleep schedule officially, if she's going to keep hanging out with vampires and the King of Dreams and an old-timey goth. ]

Deal. Watch out for roof-walkers

[ Eleven o'clock will find Constantine exiting the station in District 4, turning the collar of her coat up as she exits to the street. Wherever they are, the weather is certainly turning dreary as the autumn progresses. The cloud cover hides the stars and a chilly breeze plucks at her hair.

She keeps an eye out for Vanessa, and pauses when she reaches the restaurant, peering in through the windows.

A heavy, resigned sigh, and a mutter: ] God damn it, this place looks haunted as fuck.

[matermali]

[ While Vanessa might normally have gotten there early for the upper hand, she's hardly in the mood to entertain this meeting, let alone hurt herself hoping it will lead anywhere. Pessimism has weighed heavy of late.

Her steps are no less silent than normal as she strolls up behind the woman, assuming she'll notice her reflection. ]

Miss Constantine.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Constantine jumps and turns, pressing a hand to her heart, because three times makes a running gag and I'm helpless to resist the rules of comedy. ]

Jesus! Hi. Have you ever considered wearing a bell?

[matermali]

[ But then she wouldn't get to hear that funny sound people make when startled. ]

It has been suggested.

[ After glancing at the establishment inside—disappointing—and then finding the door, she murmurs with a subtle nod. ]

After you, Miss Constantine.

[keepgodwaiting]

Somehow I'm not surprised.

[ Shaking her head, more at herself for getting got than anything, Johanna pulls open the door and precedes Vanessa in. ]

Johanna's fine, if you like. Or just Constantine. "Miss" makes me feel like a schoolteacher.

[matermali]

[ The attempt to hold the door receives a slight smile as she steps in to have another look around. Alternate exits are always the first thing to look for in any new establishment. ]

I should hope not. Do I seem like a schoolteacher?

[keepgodwaiting]

Not one who teaches any subjects I've heard of. What about me?

[ She beelines for the bar to examine the stores and exclaims softly in triumph. ] What's your poison? We've got the basics. No absinthe.

[ Is she making assumptions about what goth Victorians drink? Yes. Yes she is. Is she wrong though. ]

[matermali]

I suppose that would depend on your passions. [ A mild head tilt as she finally strolls to the bar once through looking at a painting. ] Have you not heard of taxidermy?

[ There's plenty else she could teach, but that seems the most normal offer.

Yep. ]

Whisky or brandy will do.

[ Port would be fine, as well. Socializing while on absinthe can remain Dorian's purvue. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Johanna gives her a quizzical look as she pulls down a bottle of whisky and a couple glasses. ]

Well -- yes, I have. All right, I stand corrected, one subject I've heard of. D'you take your whisky neat or with ice?

[ Apparently she's going to play bartender. She did say she'd pour drinks, since "buying" them for each other is not really a useful concept in a place with no money. ]

Not an easy hobby to practice around here, I'd imagine.

[matermali]

Neat.

[ The last remark garners a quiet huff of amusement as she settles onto a stool and pulls her bag into her lap to rifle through. ]

I haven't practiced in some years, at any rate. More of a hobby in youth, though impossible to forget once you know. Like skinning a rabbit, or shooting a firearm.

[ A small velvet box is settled onto the counter between them. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Johanna pours and slides the glass across the bar, still considering her curiously. ]

I wouldn't have clocked you as someone who grew up shooting and skinning game. Not rabbits, anyway, maybe foxes.

[ She glances down at the box as she pours her own glass. ] What's this?

[matermali]

[ The thought of that gets a flash of a grin before she lifts her glass just to catch its scent. One must be careful. ]

Forgive my misleading you. I only meant to suggest that it would be rare for me to need those skills. Traps were my choice for rabbit catching, more as I was older. And only some months ago, before being taken here, did I learn to shoot a gun. I'm afraid the most damage I did was to the dishware.

[ There's no answer as to what the box is, only a delicate nudge of the gift in her direction. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

Still better than I could do, I reckon.

[ Vanessa still seems too posh to have been trapping rabbits at any point -- but then, Johanna has been known to surprise people if she lets slip that she grew up in a council house. Maybe they've both distanced themselves from a less polished past.

Or maybe Vanessa is posh and just likes trapping. You never know.

Setting down her glass, Johanna picks up the box and opens it. ]

--Oh, are you serious?

[ She sounds surprised, amused, and pleased in about equal measure. Drawing out the spider-shaped ring inside, she holds it up in the dusky light of the restaurant. ] Did you seriously find this for me?

[matermali]

[ Her shrug is minimal and her smile polite, but she's glad the choice doesn't seem to be offensive. There's no way not to notice that most people around here have very different ideas of fashion than her. ]

You have remarked on my jewelry more than once. I thought you might like something for yourself.

[keepgodwaiting]

It's great.

[ She tries it on a few fingers before finding a good fit on her right middle. That seems appropriate. It reminds her of the costume jewelry she wore for a bit when she was about sixteen, before she'd found herself in the punk scene, but it's better quality. A finer class of shock tactic than would be available to a teenager who'd nicked five pounds from her dad's wallet. ]

Thank you. [ She looks back to Vanessa with a small, genuine smile. ] You didn't have to do that.

[matermali]

It was no trouble, truly.

[ It took a couple of hours to find something appropriate, but it isn't as though they are short on time. Anything that keeps one from going insane from boredom is a gift, really.

With her bag set on the stool next to her, Vanessa will cross her legs and drape an arm over the counter's edge before picking up her glass to wet her lips. ]

You mentioned that you had some questions?

[keepgodwaiting]

Mm, sort of. Thoughts, I guess.

[ She props her elbows on the counter, picking up her glass, clinking her new ring on the side of it. Her gaze lands on the middle distance as she considers how to phrase what she's been thinking about. Most of it isn't terribly coherent yet, is the problem. ]

I was talking to a friend about ... the way this place keeps hauling out our secrets. It's not just making us look at ourselves, it's creating situations where we have to show parts of ourselves to others. [ Her eyes flick over to Vanessa. ] That seem right to you?

[matermali]

[ A pale fingertip traces the rim of her glass, not quite touching, while she slowly nods with a lowered gaze. ]

Such manipulations can encourage paranoia and displace the only confidence people may have in themselves; control over their own secrets. Once those are on display, nothing looks the same.

[ Possibly spoken with a little too much confidence there. ]

It is a house of mirrors.

[ With a little tip of her glass in Johanna's direction, Vanessa takes a drink that leaves it near empty. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Muttered: ] Never cared for those much. Always felt like there was something spooky in those infinite ones, where they're reflecting each other.

[ She doesn't know for certain whether there's a magical power to the way those sorts of mirrors create hallways, but she'd bet a few pounds that there is. Picking up the bottle, she offers to refill Vanessa's glass. ]

So is the point to make us paranoid, or is it to, I don't know, get us past that? Like some kind of fucked up exposure therapy.

[matermali]

[ The commentary on mirrors garners no visible reaction, but she keeps it noted for later while pushing her glass closer to Johanna with her fingertips. Vanessa hates mirrors just as much as she has loved them. Not even those can be simple for her. ]

Exposure therapy?

[ 'Therapy' is a word that she also notes, and though again she remains unmoved in appearance, there is a subtle edge to how the word is uttered. Not a murmur, but a rasp. Her unblinking stare is on Johanna now. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

It's this ... It's a treatment for things like phobias, irrational fears. Say you're scared of snakes. The therapist shows you a picture of a snake so you can get used to it, train yourself not to be afraid of it. Then they show you a video, then a real snake in a cage across the room, then you get closer ...

[ She waves a hand. ] Et cetera et cetera. Make you face your fears, basically.

[matermali]

[ With arms folded, she continues to stare throughout the explanation, with a twitch of a squint when Johanna mentions a 'snake in a cage'. Well, she understands that some 'therapy' has possibly helped...some people, when not run by mad scientists. But everything she had known was nothing less than torture, and this sounds dangerously borderline.

Cruel. Vile. The hate is too deep in her eyes to likely notice from a distance, but Vanessa can taste it like copper, like acid, and it's with a glance down that she will lift her glass for a slow sip to wash away the taste of venom.

With the bitterness swallowed, vanished, she'll give a bit of a shrug and look back up. ]

There is no way one can move forward in life without facing one's fears. Only, who is to say some here were not doing exactly that when they were taken?

[ Her arm drapes back across the other. ]

Neither can I imagine that anyone capable of so much cruelty would care about 'bettering' us. I would think it the opposite, if anything. There are many ways to sow chaos.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ For what it's worth, Constantine's tone while giving this description is decidedly neutral. It wasn't part of her regimen at Ravenscar; no doctor would have tried to expose her to demons or Hell, after all, since no doctor believed they existed. ]

I'm sure some people were. And I'm sure it's not anybody's business but our own if we were or weren't.

[ She swirls her glass moodily. ]

You think they're trying to worsen us?

[matermali]

[ She speaks softly while her fingertip once more circles the rim of the glass in a slow caress, only not quite touching. ]

Traumatic events can create a closeness among those who have nowhere else to go. With secrets so unveiled, that closeness can become a necessity. You do not want them. You need them. They have too much of you to ever risk losing. There will be friends. Lovers. Families. Contentment may dare to hover within arm's reach.

[ A sudden flick of her fingernail against the rim brings a weighted clink with an abrupt end—no sweet ringing to soothe the sharpness—while she continues with the softest musing. ]

Then, there is nowhere to go but down. Then, we have everything to lose. Our puppetmaster knows this. Do you think the games, the experiments will then become gentler, Constantine?