"Crap!" Rushing around the kitchen in a state of controlled panic, Zatanna nearly dropped the pan of vegetarian lasagna she was holding when the knock sounded. "Crap, crap, crap. They're early!" She glanced at the clock. "...No? Not early? Right on time. Okay. Deep breath, we can do this. Be right there!" she called, setting the pan down carefully on the counter and fumbling to get her apron off and hung behind the door.
She hurried to the door, pausing for a second at the mirror to make sure she didn't have cheese on her nose and hadn't aged a few decades today without noticing it. Nope, it was all good, or as good as it was gonna get on a girl pushing forty anyway.
For any other guy, she wouldn't have bothered about it, but John Constantine wasn't just any guy. And when he stopped by with friends, they tended to be not just your run-of-the-mill drinking buddies from down the pub (she loved that phrase. Americans used "at" altogether too much. Very succinct people, Brits.)
Of course, there was always a better-than-even chance something insanely dangerous and scary was going to happen while they were here. But that was half the fun. At least the big limey dork had given her a little warning this time...
She yanked the door open rather inelegantly, and threw her arms around the trenchcoated figure on the other side. "John! You made it! Oh, it's so good to see you!"
"Hullo Zatanna," he said, exactly as he always did, but this time he hugged her back with less than the usual awkwardness. She took that as a good sign, even as it roused her curiosity.
Then she caught sight of John's friend, about whom she'd heard not as much as she wanted, but enough to have decided she liked him already, demon or not. "And you're Crowley," she said, stepping straight out of John's arms to hug him too.
"You are very welcome here," she said firmly. She'd never had one of the Fallen as a house guest, but if John trusted him enough to bring him here, that was all she needed to know.
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She hurried to the door, pausing for a second at the mirror to make sure she didn't have cheese on her nose and hadn't aged a few decades today without noticing it. Nope, it was all good, or as good as it was gonna get on a girl pushing forty anyway.
For any other guy, she wouldn't have bothered about it, but John Constantine wasn't just any guy. And when he stopped by with friends, they tended to be not just your run-of-the-mill drinking buddies from down the pub (she loved that phrase. Americans used "at" altogether too much. Very succinct people, Brits.)
Of course, there was always a better-than-even chance something insanely dangerous and scary was going to happen while they were here. But that was half the fun. At least the big limey dork had given her a little warning this time...
She yanked the door open rather inelegantly, and threw her arms around the trenchcoated figure on the other side. "John! You made it! Oh, it's so good to see you!"
"Hullo Zatanna," he said, exactly as he always did, but this time he hugged her back with less than the usual awkwardness. She took that as a good sign, even as it roused her curiosity.
Then she caught sight of John's friend, about whom she'd heard not as much as she wanted, but enough to have decided she liked him already, demon or not. "And you're Crowley," she said, stepping straight out of John's arms to hug him too.
"You are very welcome here," she said firmly. She'd never had one of the Fallen as a house guest, but if John trusted him enough to bring him here, that was all she needed to know.