"Flattery will get you everywhere," he rejoined with a smile. "And I've learned to rely on a chef's recommendation."
Following Zatanna inside, Crowley looked around with interest. Like John's place, (but considerably cleaner) it was full of the regular accessories of life with the occasional oddity here or there. A strangely colored and half-burned candle on a bookshelf caught his eye, as did a slightly battered top hat on an end table.
The rest of the room was cheerfully normal, done up in blues and peaches with photographs as decoration. There was one of a couple that looked very like Zatanna and must have been her parents, a couple of other folks, and on the mantelpiece, a photo of a very young John Constantine. The demon raised an eyebrow and went to inspect it, as the other two were arguing over the bag and discussing sleeping arrangements.
The John in the picture was smiling, but it was the kind of lying smile that didn't reach his eyes, which were cold and hard. Had they met earlier, and it was really a miracle that they hadn't given their proximity, that Constantine wouldn't have been amused after their first fight and wouldn't have rested until Crowley was a Ligur sized smear on the carpet. Once again, he felt that pull of being the fortunate one. The one for whom things always work out. Well - he thought of someone three thousand miles away - almost always...
Crowley saw John return to the room and look at the photos that he'd just finished investigating. The man seemed pensive, so the demon tried to lighten the mood a bit.
"Good looking bloke, if a bit younger than I can imagine..."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-11-02 08:08 am (UTC)Following Zatanna inside, Crowley looked around with interest. Like John's place, (but considerably cleaner) it was full of the regular accessories of life with the occasional oddity here or there. A strangely colored and half-burned candle on a bookshelf caught his eye, as did a slightly battered top hat on an end table.
The rest of the room was cheerfully normal, done up in blues and peaches with photographs as decoration. There was one of a couple that looked very like Zatanna and must have been her parents, a couple of other folks, and on the mantelpiece, a photo of a very young John Constantine. The demon raised an eyebrow and went to inspect it, as the other two were arguing over the bag and discussing sleeping arrangements.
The John in the picture was smiling, but it was the kind of lying smile that didn't reach his eyes, which were cold and hard. Had they met earlier, and it was really a miracle that they hadn't given their proximity, that Constantine wouldn't have been amused after their first fight and wouldn't have rested until Crowley was a Ligur sized smear on the carpet. Once again, he felt that pull of being the fortunate one. The one for whom things always work out. Well - he thought of someone three thousand miles away - almost always...
Crowley saw John return to the room and look at the photos that he'd just finished investigating. The man seemed pensive, so the demon tried to lighten the mood a bit.
"Good looking bloke, if a bit younger than I can imagine..."