[The City] IC Contact

[hypnagothic]

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[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. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Johanna snorts. ]

Well, yes. [ She gives him an ironic look. ] We have to stop meeting like this. People will think we're up to something.

[hypnagothic]

They would likely think that more of you.

[ ... was that a tease? is he teasing?? ]

[keepgodwaiting]

You know me. Can't trust a Constantine.

[ She falls quiet for a moment, still looking at him, then glances away with a soft sigh -- not resigned or morose this time, but faintly relieved, like she's re-settling herself after putting on a coat. ]

Thanks for talking anyway.

[ About Burgess, about his family. About her own fears of this place. It would be a stretch to say she feels better about any of it, but ... at least it's something, to be trusted, especially by someone who knows what she's like. To say these things out loud to someone on her own terms, and to think she's understood. ]

[hypnagothic]

It seemed impolite to refuse your offer of a walk.

[ it's not exactly an acknowledgement of the vulnerabilities they've share with each other, but it's not an outright denial of such either. it's his excuse and he's sticking to it. ]