John Constantine

Hanging up the coat. This is me done. Fuck it all. Save yourselves.

Nightmare for a fag, but I've got bigger things in mind.

Every city has its energy. London's is misery.

Pissing it down. London comes to life when the weather's complete shite.

We're all perfectly capable of self destruction on our own, thanks.

'Course if they were smart all the Legions of Darkness™ and all their merry men would just sit back for a few centuries and wait.

Never leave one unmaimed.

Fucking Nazis.

[The feather is tucked away beneath his watch strap and the cat is shooed off. He leaves without paying.]

[He takes the feather. After handling Lucifer's, he can't help noting how weak and limp it seems, but John knows an Ace when he finds one.]

[It's early when the cat finds him, so naturally John is in the pub. He scoops it up and avoids losing an eye in the process.]

[John takes a train down to the Pride parade. It's a good distraction from the scheming and paranoia.]

Hah. teapawt.net/YourBanditQueen/status…

[And far too many CCTV cameras.]

[Passing sirens on the surface. John ducks behind an umbrella and lights a cigarette. Being back in London proper meant new risks.]

Left me coat indoors cos I didn't think I'd fucking need it, did I?

Fucking weather. This meant to be July?

[Nicks a pear from the market. Radical anti-capitalism in action.]

About fucking time.