(closed) Are we copacetic?

[volunteertomatoes]

characters: Quentin Coldwater, John Constantine, and Number Five
location: Restaurant, eventually library (?)
date/time: TBD (before the fog, after the personalized horrors)
content: A magic nerd, an occult dabbler, and a coffe afficianado tries to figure out a book
warnings: Most likely mention of depression, the rest TBD


[ It's fairly easy to find Quentin--he's a habitual creature, and he's already developed a bit of a routine during his short stay: he checks the bulletin board at the Town Hall and then wanders over to either the library or the restaurant around lunch time. He can't really cook but grilled cheese are fairly hard to fuck up, and in a matter of seconds he's found a table, drinking a glass of water and pouring over a copy of the 2nd Fillory and Further book. Occasionally, he'll stop to either scribble something down on a pad of paper or write in said book, brow furrowing with the utmost concentration.

The symbols in large, leather bound tome he'd dreamt about and the things he'd written down on the bulletin board are still in the periphery of his mind, but right now he's continuing his other project. It's mostly just busy work to keep him from slipping, something he's learned a while ago that he needs to have. Nothing wrong with a crutch.

He glances up when he sees someone enter the building, nodding slightly in polite greeting. ]

Comments

[fika]

[ quite frankly, him finding quentin as answer to the bulletin board post was a stab in the dark and driven by the ever growing frustration of a lack of clues. the discoveries that were coming into light were deathly slow. there were more questions than answers.

persistently, it seemed. the book meant very little to him, in retrospect, but it meant something bigger to someone else, and that implied a lead he didn't think to follow. and that was important.

so five is striding into the grey gull, and finds the man bent over his own notes and gives him a quick nod. ] You're Quentin, then?

John should be here soon.

[hellblaze]

[ routines? john has been robbed of his. namely because the town has no bloody whiskey. oh, he'll be sour about that until the end of days. a formal complaint he will take to the almighty. be damned sure of it.

speak of the devil and he shall appear.

john strides in only a minute later, pocketing the open pack of cigarettes. he supposes he can spare the others the smell of a lit one for now. it all depends on how the conversation goes. ]

'Lo Quentin, Five. [ a merry nod as he unceremoniously grabs a chair and sits down beside the men. ] Have you two met yet?

[volunteertomatoes]

[ He's not really expecting a kid. Quentin's chest tightens briefly, gaze sweeping him over curiously as he chews. Constantine arrives before he can finish swallowing in a very considerate gesture, saving him from having to ask the obvious. ]

No--uh--hey. [ He remembers to set his book down, though it's a distracted afterthought, using a sheet of paper ripped roughly into a bookmark shape. ] Have a seat?

[ It's a question, not a statement. ]

[fika]

[ five's stare pivots heavily back to quentin, almost as if he's anticipating the question to come. there's that look people give him, that subtle surprise that's usually preceded by the poor decision of addressing him as kid.

remind him to thank john for arriving just in time.

five scrapes a chair away, takes the one closest to the wall so john can take the other. ] I'm Number Five. [ as way of formal introduction, then. ]

So, you wanted to talk about the book?

[hellblaze]

[ john only takes note of the exchange when he sees that sour puss look on five's face. right, haven't met, don't know the time traveling thing. well -- not his card to reveal. the two of them can talk their own merry amount of magic between themselves. ]

Not to worry, mate. Five here is an old soul at heart.

[ there's a grin on his face as he says that, but, it doesn't quite meet the corners of his face. he's still a bit out of sorts ... but, well, there's a job to do and he'd rather do that then mope about a girl.

he puts his hands on the table and waits. ]

[volunteertomatoes]

[ The only reason Quentin's brows don't move any higher is that he's physically incapable of doing so. he'd noticed the half-pivot of a star, the waves of whatever the hell the other felt washing over him, and glances over at John. ]

The book-- [ He glances at the one he'd been holding before the pieces click, and it's like a switch goes off in his head. Everything is completely set down, food immediately abandoned. ] The book, right--did you--you saw the bulletin board? Pull up a chair--uuh--so did you two solve any of it?

[fika]

Oh piss off. [ is hissed under his breath, half-heated but all heart. john should add comedian to his business card at the rate he's going.

but - more to matters at hand, he tips his head. ] No, we didn't.

[ honestly, he's here more to listen than offer up any relevant insight. he's got an analytical mind, and if someone else can understand the bullshit language scrawled over ghostly pages, then maybe he could help with the rest. for now, he's more than happy to let john lead.

for now, though, as he zeroes in on the old timey espresso machine behind the bar: ] I'm going to make some coffee. You all want any?

[hellblaze]

[ he chuckles at the remark five makes. it's funny - admit it. ]

Not much to solve on our end. Had to try to bring the bloody thing back to life to even see what it once was. [ "back to life" was figurative of course. ] Seems like you have more information on it than we do.

[ there's a gesture made towards five. he'll take a cup. ]