talentforlying | -5 MCA, Friday Afternoon/Evening

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-5 MCA, Friday Afternoon/Evening

John had gotten the surprise of his fucking life this morning. In a good way, that was, and while it had taken a few moments for him to wake up enough to realize what, exactly, was coming out of his shower-head, he had figured it out eventually.

A call and a bribe to get a same-day delivery of a few giant bottles of Culligan and a water cooler from the mainland, a trip over the Causeway to the YMCA for a godsdamned shower with water and a shopping trip for the appropriate accouterments...

It was getting on towards dinner time by the time once he was back and had everything he needed. The door to his flat was propped open, text messages reading my fucking taps are running absinthe come fucking help me enjoy it, music on and food available.

Fuck yeah Constantine was indulging. And no, he wasn't lighting his sugar cubes on fire, that shit was for showy amateurs.

[OOC: Open post! If you think you got a text, you did, or feel free to stumble over Constantine's Bad Choices.]

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Peter got the message and knocked on the open door, a large jug in his hand. "My taps are running beer. I brought some. Is this an island thing, or do we need to talk to the landlord?"

"Island-wide, I bet," John said, raising his half-glass to Peter and gesturing for him to come in. "Once it was fucking eggnog, and wasn't that a shit to discover in the shower?"

Peter made a face. "Luckily I noticed this one when I went to brush my teeth."

He glanced at the wards he could feel around John's door. "What are those against? I don't want to break them or get myself fried."

"Unless you mean me malicious harm, you're safe," John quipped, though he didn't deactivate any of the wards. "The rest are mostly alarms, for when weird magical shite is happening, or if someone tries to trespass into Special Collections."

Peter nodded and stepped in. "I've set up similar ones at my place and the flower shop, but I thought I'd make sure. No harm to you or yours," he promised, "though I'm not going to stop you getting shit-faced if you want to."

He set his jug of beer down. "Are the walls part of the weird, too? Mine aren't doing that."

"Nah, that's a hundred percent MCA being MCA," he laughed, motioning for Peter to grab a seat. "Was like that when I moved in-- the place is a damn mood ring. Walls changed colors based on how you feel...it's like half the fun of LSD, and none of the bad shite."

"Never had the dubious pleasure," Peter said, sitting. "I'll take your word for it."

"Seriously? Psychedelics and magic have gone hand-in-hand for eons, I'm surprised you didn't play around a bit," he said, sipping at his drink. "I've come up with some brilliant shite while out of my mind."

Also some utterly terrible ideas, but, well, Constantine.

Peter gave him a wry grin. "Drugs don't affect me. And where I learned my magic, I never would have touched them if they did."

Somehow, psychedelics and Hell seemed like a really bad combination.

Then, because he couldn't remember what John might or might not know, "I spent a thousand years in Hell."

"Which hell?" Because yes, that was a question you had to ask around here. "If it's run by three mad bastards...I wasn't here, you never saw me, and whatever they might have said about me-- is probably true."

"I don't think anyone can agree on who's in charge," Peter said. "There are more than three that try to claim it, though." He smiled grimly. "And if they hate you, it just means you're doing something right."

"Different Hell, then," John decided. "Mine's ruled by a triumvirate since Lucifer decided to piss off and not be God's fall-boy anymore. I've managed to fuck over all three fairly recently, so they're not my biggest fans."

"I'm not sure about this one's version of Lucifer," Peter said. "We took down Beelzebub just before I ended up here; he was the most powerful I met."

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Once Kanan got himself settled down, he turned toward Peter and raised his glass with a grin.

"All the taps in the building, huh? Whatever the frak is coming from mine is way less fun than this stuff."

Absinthe was definitely crawling up Kanan's list of Earth favorites.

"Mine is beer," Peter said, pointing at the jug he'd brought. "And no, Earth beer isn't usually green. It's a holiday thing."

"... Holiday thing? Does this have anything to do with the way Earth messed up the time by an hour, or is that something different?"

Kanan, you had no idea just how many holidays this stupid planet had.

"...You mean Daylight Saving Time? No, that's different. This is St. Patrick's Day," Peter answered. "It commemorates a saint that..." He shrugged. "Most people nowadays couldn't tell you, so it's really not important to the holiday. The traditions around here are wearing green, eating and drinking green things, and getting really drunk."

"... Ah." Kanan squinted at his drink, and then shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I'm on my way there, then, at least."

And he wore green... basically all the time. It looked good on him, okay?

"What's up with the daylight savings thing, then? It isn't like the days actually get shorter or longer, here."

"It's been around a century or so now," Peter said. "I think it's supposed to save energy, having people awake and doing things when it's more light out. It changes back in Fall."

"Okaaaay." Kanan frowned a little. "Does an hour in either direction actually make all that much difference?"

Because it still sounded stupid to him.

Peter laughed. "You're asking the wrong person. I have no idea."

"I mean, I just came from a planet that never sees daylight," Kanan noted, smirking faintly. "And we keep Galactic time. Sure, you work shifts according to the time or the daylight hours depending on what they need, but going and changing it right across the map? That seems so ridiculous to me."

"It's not everywhere," Peter said. "Some places don't observe it. And some do, but change on different days."

Earth really was odd in a few ways, he supposed.

"... Your planet makes no sense."

Just in case Peter wasn't aware.

"I'm pretty sure that no-one anywhere has ever claimed otherwise." Peter shrugged. "No-one sane, anyway."