Steps from the shadows, all trenchcoat &amp; cigarette &amp; arrogance

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?"

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"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?"

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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."

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"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."

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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."

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"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."

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

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"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.

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"There's green sludge in my sink and I need a damn drink," Kanan announced as he peered in the door. "The open door is promising, though. What's going on in here?"

Kanan really needed to get himself an Earth phone. Then he could just start off with 'what the hell is absinthe and how drunk will it get me?'

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"Drinking the stuff from the sink properly," John said, giving Kanan a salute. "Mine's pumping out absinthe, and sounds like Peter's got beer. What nonsense is pouring from your taps, then?"

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"Hell if I know, but I think it has milk in it," Kanan shared. "Yours sounds more fun. What's absinthe?"

Teach him the ways of the green fairies, John.

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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."

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"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."

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"Milk?" John made a face. "Fuck, no, that just isn't right."

He gestured for Kanan to get his ass inside and sit down. "Absinthe is a very, very alcoholic beverage. She's a little green fairy with a hell of a kick, you can't drink her without diluting it a bit unless you want your brains on the floor of a morgue."

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"Try me," Kanan replied, smirking faintly. "I was drinking the ryncol straight when the island was going for its wander."

Because Kanan was an idiot. He'd vomited a lot of purple during that little romp across the multiverse.

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"You can keep with the macho bullshit, or you can actually enjoy her, but you don't get both," John said cheerfully, getting up to grab Kanan a glass and heading to the kitchen to pour a quarter into it. "You can't treat a lady like that, you know. She's better with a little sugar."

JOHN. NO.

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Well, that seemed to amuse Kanan, at least. He gave his shoulders an easy shrug to go with his little snort of amusement.

"I'll drink her however you're drinking her," he decided. "I'll defer to the professional, at least to start."

There was something in there about how he liked them sweet, wet, and green, but he decided to behave himself at least until he was a little more drunk.

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arboreal_priestess

There was a knock on Constantine's open door and a blonde with a pixie cut stick her head inside. "Excuse me?"

Verity's taps were running green and smelling like gin of all things, and she hadn't been on the island anywhere near long enough to figure out the connection.

"I was wondering if there was something wrong with your pipes, too?"

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"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."

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"Nah, there's something right with 'em for once," John laughed. "Absinthe, of all things, which is far better than the eggnog incident. Though with it being Saint Pat's, you'd think I'd have beer like Peter over there. Come on in and pull one up, love."

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futurespacemom

Hera followed Kanan down, then turned around and went back up for a glass pulled from their pipes. She came in holding it out. "Is this absinthe? Or can you tell me what it is?"

They didn't have shamrock shakes in her galaxy.

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"She's a fancy one, but worth the wait," he promised, giving Kanan a wink as he wandered back over and set the glass in front of him before putting the spoon and sugar-cube on top.

"Now, we can do this one of two ways. The classic, which gives more flavor, or with fire, which just looks cool."

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"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."

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"Not absinthe, I can tell you that," he said, squinting at it. "Give it here, love, I'll give her a go and see if I can figure it out."

Oh, woe, the the risks he took for pretty ladies.

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