[The City] IC Contact

[hypnagothic]

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[hypnagothic]

Our methods adapt. We do not.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Johanna gives him a silent and incredibly skeptical look. Three guesses what she thinks of that answer, and the first two don't count. ]

[hypnagothic]

[ he glances at her briefly, before looking forward again and sighing out lightly. ]

You are not the first to show such skepticism.

[keepgodwaiting]

Mm, whoever was the first sounds smart, then.

[hypnagothic]

It has become a more frequent sentiment of late ...

[keepgodwaiting]

Why do you think that might be?

[ It's kind of a rhetorical question, kind of a roast, kind of genuine. Is he changing? She's not in a position to say, exactly, she hasn't known him long enough. But, hey, if you keep meeting people saying it's possible for you to change ... ]

[hypnagothic]

Your mockery is unnecessary, Constantine.

[ his tone is flat, but it's not necessarily angry or flinty. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

Now you sound like my sister.

[ He super doesn't, because he's a soft-spoken eldritch being and not a Scouse office worker yelling at Jo to stop talking shit about her husband's weird evangelical rantings. ]

I'm not taking the piss. Are a bunch of people telling you you can change, or what?

[hypnagothic]

[ he doesn't reply right away like he's debating about not replying at all, but he does a moment later. ]

That I have already done so. Since my escape.

[keepgodwaiting]

Ah.

[ All right, she can be serious for this, then. ]

Hard to imagine that something like that wouldn't change you. This place will change us too, I expect.

[hypnagothic]

You believe so?

[keepgodwaiting]

[ She raises her eyebrows. ]

You don't?

[hypnagothic]

Why should it?

[keepgodwaiting]

[ She glances over at him, unsure for a moment if he's taking the piss, and then away. ]

Well, it's fucking traumatizing, for one.

[ She says this with less of her usual sarcasm than he might expect, still gazing ahead at the pavement. ]

It'll change us in little ways. We'll forget you have to look for cars when you cross the streets. We'll stop going into new buildings without someone with us. We'll be scared of locked doors, or unlocked ones.

We'll get angry and scared and selfish when the luxuries start getting scarce, and if the luxuries come back, we'll stay angry and scared and selfish 'cause we won't know when it'll change again. Some of us will fall in love and then fall out of love and won't be able to get away from each other. The worst shit we've done will get dragged out for someone else to see, and we'll find out some people around here have done some terrible shit, and we'll have to deal with it, one way or another.

And if we ever get home, we won't be the same.

[hypnagothic]

[ he glances back to her about halfway through her words, watching her while they walk slowly through the dimly lit and empty streets. a few beats pass when her words stop, measured only by the sound of their footfalls, and his answering words are somehow softer without the volume with which he says it actually changing. ]

With such thoughts spiraling through your mind, it is little wonder that you do not sleep this night.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ She sighs, shrugs. It's hardly just this night that she's thinking about these things. It's hardly just this night that she's awake in the small hours. ]

I call it like I see it, bruv.

[hypnagothic]

[ maybe he was just being polite and only speaking to the now. polite or kind. ]

I expect no less from you.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Definitely one of those.

Johanna chuckles, without a lot of humor. ]

Were you expecting that we'd all get through whatever this is without changing?

[hypnagothic]

I would hope to return quickly to our own worlds.

[keepgodwaiting]

Yeah. But I didn't ask what you were hoping.

[hypnagothic]

No. You did not.

I do expect that those mortals brought here to experience some form of trauma or loss, felt either here or in their own worlds by their absence from it. I do not expect they will leave here unscathed, in either form or in mind.

[keepgodwaiting]

The immortals, too.

[hypnagothic]

... Perhaps so.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Wry: ] Yeah.

Change isn't pretty, usually. Doesn't have to be bad, but it always hurts.

[ Newcastle and Ravenscar changed her. Without them, she'd probably, what, be bumming around punk clubs smoking three packs a day and scraping by on whatever money she could con out of people through fortune-telling and card sharking? Maybe. Or maybe she'd be dead, or maybe she'd be a nun.

Her life in London isn't so bad, compared to that, even with the nightmares. But it hurt to get there. ]

Christ, this is morose.

[hypnagothic]

I daresay the conversation is appropriate to the circumstances of our location.

[ walking alone, together, in an empty street in the middle of the night. ]