(no subject)

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

Date: January 6, 2001
Status: Private (John, Kit - Complete)
Setting: Manor Bar
Summary: O_o!



John was feeling content, for once. Things had been mostly quiet in the Manor since Aziraphale had left; that wouldn't last, for sure, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Crowley seemed to have rallied, Ellie was trying to do something constructive for a change, Belial and the Snob were keeping to themselves mostly, Loki had a regular coven of assorted mystical types working on his problem, Uriel's sprog was safely arrived and nobody seemed to be in the middle of a crisis; and as for John himself, he'd made a few friendly acquaintances of the human variety, and had some very pleasant New York memories to reflect on, and possibly a few more to look forward to.

Yeah, there was a shoe waiting to drop, no doubt about it. Likely a big, heavy boot covered in mud and less mentionable substances. But for right now, he was just going to sit here at the bar enjoying a pint, and let the madhouse look after itself for a bit.

Comments

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Kit couldn't help but remember what Adam had said at the front desk: John'll be real glad to see you. Eventually.

Well. That was fair. It was just getting to the eventually part that was difficult.

It wasn't easy for her, either, though she had at least been the forewarned one this time. John looked much the same - a bit worn by the years, perhaps, and somewhat better dressed, but still Constantine. Still a part of her history that she was never sure she should have left behind.

She smiled, if somewhat weakly, and, fulling knowing it could be labeled the understatement of the century, said, "Surprise."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"I--yeah," John croaked, hurriedly grabbing a stack of paper napkins and dropping it in the pool of stout on the bar without really looking at it. "No shit. Christ. Kit." He shook his head impatiently, knowing he was acting a damn fool and trying desperately to get his wits about him.

"Why...what're you doing here? How'd you find me?" Then he cursed inwardly; it made it sound as though he'd been hiding from her, which was rubbish, and also brought the alarming thought to mind, Fuck, did Adam call her here? Why else would she...? How...?

He drew a deep breath and ran both hands through his hair, forcing himself calm, for the moment. "Jesus. Sorry. I just wasn't--well, it is a surprise. Not a bad one, though." He swallowed, hard, very nearly praying he hadn't brought something terrible down on her head in Belfast and then lost the memory of it. Or worse, maybe--patched things up somehow and forgotten. "How...how are you?"

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Under other circumstances, it might have amused her to see John sitting there, sopping up his drink, but this time Kit felt a pang of guilt for being the cause of such distress. She knew how he felt, really, or at least she suspected she did; the storm of emotion was probably much the same she'd experienced when Claire had first told her John had been by to see her.

His questions were no doubt overwhelming for both of them, but she knew she owed him some explanation. She only wished she had a proper one to give.

"Asked around a wee bit," she said, thinking she'd probably already got Chas in enough trouble without naming him as the culprit. "Just - I dunno. Wanted to see you in one piece, I guess. I heard you... well."

Kit was used to watching John make a bit of a fool of himself, really; it had happened often enough in their past. It was rare, though, that it went both ways.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I'd have called, if I'd known..." Where you were, she didn't finish, or who you were with.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Heard I...?" John trailed off, knowing he should be able to complete that sentence and more than slightly hacked off that he couldn't. He knew exactly what would happen if he tried, too: instant migraine and a pathetic display of weakness that he absolutely wasn't prepared to make. Not in front of Kit, especially. The events in Belfast were still mostly a blurry mess, and probably always would be.

But how was he supposed to explain that to her?

He turned away from her, only to meet the gaze of his own reflection in the bar mirrors, and winced at the stupidly stunned look on his face. Leaning on the bar and resting his forehead in his hand, he shut his eyes for a moment. He'd never been able to dissemble to Kit, she always saw right through him on the rare occasion when he'd tried.

All right then, best to just be up-front about it and hope she was equally good at reading him when he told the truth.

"Belfast, right?" he sighed. "I was there, I know, but I had a...an accident, sort of, and I'm not sure now what all went on. What is it you heard?" Did I see you? Did someone tell you about the fiend? Why wait so long and show up now?

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Kit spared a concerned look at John while his eyes were closed: his worn-down look, his vague descriptions. Maybe she hadn't found him all in one piece, after all.

"Aye. Claire told me you'd come 'round. But you never came back, or rang about it," she continued, trying her best to keep her tone concerned rather than accusatory, "so we didn't know what you were doin' in Belfast."

Kit fixed John with a more direct gaze, then. She was starting to wonder what he wasn't saying, but then, she hadn't given him reason to admit anything. Still, she wanted to know what trouble he'd brought upon her. What danger he'd been in himself. So she asked, gently, only half expecting an explanation, "Accident?"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Bad shit. Kind of stuff you never wanted to hear about." John smiled bitterly, sensing the undertone to the question she was so carefully trying to cover up. "It's dealt with now. Nobody else'll get hurt.

"As for why I was there, I wish I could tell you." He shifted restlessly, watching the un-soaked remains of the spill drip slowly onto the floor. "That whole time is a blur. I'd just had an almighty row with--somebody close, and I know I went around and visited some other people I hadn't seen in a while." He didn't want to admit what he suspected had been the real reasons: that he still missed her, that he'd wanted to see her again--or that he'd really had no place else to be. "Maybe I went to bury the hatchet. I dunno. Pretty sure I wasn't meaning to worry you." He'd done more than enough of that for one lifetime, hadn't he? "I didn't ring after because I wasn't sure of--anything." Translation: I'm a bloody coward. Now go on and tell me so like the smart girl you are, so we can fight and you can go back to your safe, normal life.

It wasn't that he wanted her to go. Christ, no. It was all he could do not to throw all good sense out the window, get up and go to her right now and--no, it was just that the Manor was no place for someone as hellbent on living a real life as Kit was, and she deserved to have that. He'd never have it in him to give it to her. He knew that now.

That, and he was afraid. He'd lost count of how many things had come close to destroying him in almost fifty years, but none of the others had ever managed to break him. Losing Kit, he'd finally given up. It was by sheer accident that he'd survived long enough to mend. He didn't think he'd get so lucky a second time.

If he'd had any idea how clearly all these thoughts were reflected in his face at that moment--for someone who knew him well enough to read them there--he would have bolted. Fortunately, he wasn't looking in the mirror just then.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Jesus, John..." Annoyed by the way he seemed to spill everything but the things she'd really wanted to know, Kit nevertheless couldn't bring herself to be properly angry with him. He looked so... well, miserable, sitting there. Liked he'd finally lost himself in his thoughts. She was struck with the uncomfortable idea that - whatever this was - she had done it to him; she was the reason he'd come to Ireland.

So it was with some degree of calm, at least, that she managed to ask, "Were you really expectin' me to believe that you came all the way to Belfast, for the first time in your bloody life, and you don't remember why?"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John's mouth thinned into a hard line. "No, Kit," he said flatly, "I didn't. Why the fuck d'you think I didn't call?" He mimed picking up a telephone receiver. "'Hullo, luv, it's that selfish bastard you walked out on seven years ago, I was just wondering if I happened to turn up at your door recently because I've got sod all clue if I did?' Christ."

He took out his cigarette case and lit one up with sharp, angry motions. "The thing didn't follow me there, if that's what you're worried about. Belfast is the last place on Earth--" He stopped himself abruptly. If she didn't believe he'd lost his memory, why should she believe he'd go out of his way to keep anything from hurting her, even after all this time? "I was looking for you, all right? I've got no other reason to go anywhere near the place, so it had to have been you. If I knew more than that, I'd tell you."

The anger ran out of him with his first smoky exhalation. What was the fucking point? She'd come all this way and he couldn't even give her a sensible reason why she should have. Once again, he'd managed to let her down. "It sounds fucking ridiculous, but it's true, all the same. You know I never could lie to you."

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Right," Kit snapped before giving herself a chance to think about all he'd said. "Much better to just disappear into the night, an' leave me thinking you were... Jesus," she said again, quietly, and with particular emphasis stemming from seven years of not knowing.

She didn't dare look at John again in that moment, afraid of what she'd give away - perhaps even more afraid of what she'd find. But the red-orange glow of the cigarette caught her eye in the bar mirrors, and she couldn't help but glance up: it was an all too familiar sight, that of John's face cast in light and shadow by his Silk Cut. Kit almost smiled.

Almost, but she could see in his expression the frustration, the disappointment: could practically see him repeating the mantra of how he'd only ever let her down. And he had, or so she still asserted to herself. She'd asked him to leave her out of it, to keep her safe from it, and he hadn't, and so she'd been her own defender and left Constantine and all his 'bad shit' behind her.

But their mess of a relationship, she'd realized at some point over the years spent without him, had gone both ways. Where she'd been looking for safety, he'd also wanted a sanctuary. A place where the rest of his ballixed-up world didn't matter. And there she'd been, always bringing it up, always throwing it back in his face, in the end. Perhaps, in that way, they'd both been disappointed; and perhaps it was too late for either of them to make up for it now.

"You're right," she said finally, her voice weary and resigned. "It is friggin' ridiculous. But you could lie to me, John. You could lie to the Devil himself if you wanted to." Kit, of course, had no idea just how closely this analogy mirrored actual events and would have been staggered to find out. "You just never did."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley had been looking for John for hours when he finally spotted a flash of blond hair through the doorway to the bar - a place he'd looked three times already.

"Fuck, John, where the hell have you been? I have to..." he stuttered to a halt, noticing that Kit was already there.

"Uh, hi." Shifting his weight from one foot to the other and feeling unusually awkward, Crowley grabbed a random bottle off the bar.

"I'm just bringing this..." the demon peered at the label, "Goldschläger back to the room." He made a face. "So, um, if you wanted any clear, cinnamon flavoured schnapps with flecks of gold floating in it for some reason, you know where to find me."

Unable to handle the two matching stupefied expressions, Crowley bolted again.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"...sure..." John's eyebrows tilted quizzically as he watched Crowley make his escape.

"Now what the blazes has got into him?" he muttered rhetorically as the door swung shut, though he was secretly grateful for the interruption. He'd just said some things he suspected he might regret when he'd had a chance to think them over, and heard some things he definitely hadn't had time to process fully.*

"Oh. Sorry, that was just Crowley," he added, unaware that Kit had already met the demon. "He can be a little...high-strung, sometimes."

---

*If his attention hadn't been occupied with all of that, he probably could have answered his own question quite handily. Just as well, really.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"So it would appear, aye," said Kit. While at first she almost welcomed the interruption, it was also a little off-putting. This was the second time this mysterious man had gaped at her and run in a matter of hours; she was beginning to think she'd recognize his backside before she'd know his face.

But then, she had a better idea of why, at least, after her little chat with Adam. "I expect it's a bit odd for him, too, though, having your - " and she choked suddenly on the word 'ex-girlfriend,' no matter how adequate the description might be.

"Well," she finished, "having me show up here."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John winced inwardly as it occurred to him that yeah, it probably was pretty weird for Crowley, given the shit he'd been privy to inside John's head. But Kit couldn't know about that, could she? So then...

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, frowning slightly.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Well, since you're... you know." Kit made a gesture that may have communicated what she was trying to say John and the dark-haired man were, but that more likely failed miserably to get across any point at all.

"Since the two of you are... are. Sharing a room. And all that," she managed finally. She was blushing again; she knew it, and she hated it.

Still wasn't jealous, though.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John stared at her for a long moment, dumbfounded. "Oh, Christ. Not you, too!"

Then the absurdity of it, and the embarrassment so clearly stamped on her face, started to sink in, and he had no choice but to laugh. Tried not to, knowing it was liable to hack her off, but he couldn't help it: this had to make at least five people who'd got the same idea. And he had to admit, in their places, he might have jumped to the same conclusion a couple of times now.

He put his head down on the bar with a soft thump, shoulders heaving. "Ahh, hell. I give up," he said finally, muffled, making a gesture of surrender with his cigarette. "Might as well just shag the bastard and get it over with..."

He lifted his head, wiping his eyes, and looked at her apologetically, hoping she wouldn't be too angry. "Crowley and I share a two-bedroom suite, luv. We're roommates, more or less. Who is it you've been talking to?"

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"The boy, Adam, at the front desk," she said, bristling a bit at John's poorly covered laughter. "He said you were... well, he implied..."

And it was a bit to her horror that Kit realized that Adam hadn't actually explicitly said anything of the sort. He'd left it up to her to fill in the blanks, and she, like a fool, had done exactly that: had taken everything he'd said at face value, and had in fact done this to herself.

"And that Crowley keeps staring at me like I'm a ghost or somethin', so I thought... Shite."

She wondered if she'd wanted John to be attached, just to make things simpler. She could just say her piece, they could fix whatever needed fixing, and she could be back in Belfast for Sunday dinner. Or perhaps having someone else in the mix to focus on had saved her from examining what she really felt, sitting here in the same room with John...

"Roommates," she said finally, still miserably red. "So you're not...?"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"To the surprise of bloody near everybody who's ever met us, no," John said wryly. "You at least ought to know better, though." And for a moment, a very-much-intact memory gleamed in his eyes, suggesting why Kit, of all people, should not doubt his preference for women.

That was a course of conversation neither of them was probably ready to follow any further, though, so he dropped his gaze and backpedalled a bit instead. "Adam, huh? I'll have to have a word with him, then. He's a nice kid, but sometimes I think he's got a bit of a mean streak." He wasn't about to share his speculations on where that came from. "There's reasons why Crowley looks at you funny, actually, but I'm not sure how much you'd want to hear about that, either."

He got out his cigarettes again and offered the open case to her, curious whether she'd managed to kick the habit he had inadvertantly shared with her. "The short version is, Crowley's the reason I've still got any memories left at all. Don't mind him; he'll settle down when he's got used to you. Um. If you're gonna be sticking around, I mean." It was fairly late; surely she'd at least be staying the night?

He told himself he shouldn't be hoping quite so much that she would be. Bits and pieces of the conversation had started fitting themselves together, puzzle-like, and the picture they seemed to be adding up to was one he thought he might not be able to handle--or could too easily misinterpret.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Well, it's hard to say with you, isn't it?" Kit replied, her tone still a bit prickly from embarrassment. "I mean, he said that you'd known this Crowley for ten years or better. Not that I'm sayin' you two were... y'know... but I certainly never saw him around."

Kit took one of the proffered cigarettes, holding it out for John to light; she'd thought she'd have quit, years back, or at least switched brands, but she'd never bothered. Everyone had to have something to hold on to, she supposed, and she'd clung to Silk Cuts: no matter who the scent had hung about, no matter where she encountered it, it had never reminded her of anything but John.

John, who was being elusive with her even now. 'The only reason I've still got any memories left at all.' What sort of abstract shite was that? But then, he wasn't telling her because, all those years ago, she'd made it clear that she didn't want to know. In that, he must realize, he'd never failed her.

Kit took a long drag from the cigarette, and tapped the orange embers into an ashtray on the bar. "I'll be here for the night, at least," she said noncommittally. She perhaps deliberately left the length of her stay open-ended, as deliberately as she didn't look at John as she said it. "Adam set me up in a room already... That boy," and, somewhat amused, she shook her head. "Serves me right for listenin' to him, I suppose. Some weird shite of a conversation. But he just looked so bloody angelic."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, there was a reason for that, too," John said more seriously as he lit it up for her. Crowley's real identity wasn't his secret to tell, and he had no idea how she would react to the knowledge that she'd met a real, live demon. Though if she wound up staying for long, she'd have to learn the truth eventually. And not just about Crowley. "I have known him for years. We moved in the same circles." He hoped the meaningful inflection he gave the words would convey which circles he meant--the ones she'd wanted no part of. That much warning, at least, he could give her. "Didn't get to know him that well until pretty recently, though."

He smiled, at her ironically apt description and at the way she'd fallen effortlessly under Adam's spell, like just about everyone else around here. Himself included, to some extent, if he were being honest, and it should probably bother him more than it did. "Adam has that effect on people...he's all right, though. This place couldn't function without him." As he spoke, he fought down an upwelling of emotion he didn't dare try to name at the thought that she'd be staying. At least for tonight.

For the first time in seven years, he'd wake to the knowledge that she was there. If not beside him, then nearby, within sight, within reach.

Christ help him.

"I could show you around, maybe," he offered before he could think better of it. "It's a big place, easy to get lost in..." And he definitely, emphatically did not want to think of Kit wandering alone in Tadfield Manor. "Unless Adam already gave you the grand tour?"

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Ah," Kit said knowingly, "one of those friends." In her time with John, his mates had generally fallen into one of two categories: there were the ones she knew, often mutual friends, some casual acquaintances that they might meet down the pub, or some, like Chas, who'd really stuck around.

And then there was the alternate category. The spooky category. Names which, if she'd even heard them, evoked no faces or pleasant memories, but rather floated around in her head like mythical figures whose legends had been lost in translation.

Of course, if she'd known this category also included a trim man in dark glasses who took off running every time he saw her, she might not have formed the same ideas about how dangerous this group could be. But still, she'd never asked, and he'd never told her.

Kit took another puff of the cigarette, pondering his offer. She'd already had enough of his presence to make her feel dizzy with confusion and nostalgia and a slew of other things she couldn't identify; on the other hand, it was utterly ridiculous that she was considering avoiding him when he was the reason she'd come all this way. Grow up, you wee eejit. It's only John.

But then, that was precisely the problem.

"Aye, all right," she said finally, and her curiosity to see his reaction drove her to glance up as she replied. "He only told me where everythin' was - all in one breath, I think. But even if he had, I'm sure the Constantine Grand Tour is like no other." She managed a smile.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Dunno about that," John said, one hand rising automatically to rub at the back of his neck at the implied compliment (if that's what it was,) "but I know my way around. Most of it's best seen in full daylight, though." She'd like the hothouse, he thought, and the little chapel upstairs that he rarely visited. "The restaurant's not bad. We could start out there in the morning, have breakfast and then see the rest..."

That's right, just keep talking and don't think too hard about any of it, he told himself, knowing that the moment he stopped to let the situation sink in, he was finished. The fact that she'd come here looking for him frankly blew him away. It wasn't like Kit. She preferred her bridges cleanly burned. The implications were staggering, and it was maybe a good thing he couldn't think altogether clearly just now, anyway. Kit's nearness was triggering reactions in his nervous system that had been dormant for a very long time, and keeping a lid on those impulses was occupying a large part of his attention.

At least he'd had plenty of experience dealing with that. Kit had always made him feel this way, like some fumbling adolescent, as much scared as powerfully attracted by her strong, uncompromising brand of femininity.

"Just...do us a favor and don't wander too far in the meantime, eh?" he added. He trusted in Adam's protection, but there were things around here that might frighten or upset her. A staunch Irish Catholic, it was possible she'd handle meeting an obviously supernatural creature as well as she did a thug with a switchblade--but they'd always deliberately avoided any opportunities to find out.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Right," Kit said, giving him a smile. Either he was handling this all heroically well, she thought, or John was just too confused to think to demand why she'd come all this way just to throw his world out of joint and make him spill his stout.

For her part, she was glad he didn't press her; she'd told herself repeatedly over the last few days that she'd just wanted to see, just wanted to see with her own eyes that he was all right and in one piece and hadn't been ruined by his own bad shit. And now, standing in the same room with him, she was becoming keenly aware of just what a liar she'd been. "Tomorrow mornin', then?" she asked. "'Round nine?"

She stamped what was left of her cigarette out in the ashtray, and its soft glow ceased with a certain finality. "Think I might be wanderin' off to bed soon, though," she said, though she nodded in response to John's warning, and added with a wry grin, "Unless you think that might be too dangerous, too." And God above, she hadn't meant that to sound like an invitation - or maybe she had. She wasn't even sure herself, and she found herself irrationally wishing she could just hit pause on this whole conversation until things settled down in her head and started to make sense again.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Nine's good," John said automatically. It did sound like an invitation, on the face of it, and that and the smile threatened to derail his thought processes for the second time in twenty minutes.

He wrenched them back into line with an effort, telling himself not to be an idiot--that wasn't Kit's style, he could see the uncertainty in her eyes, and in any case he was in no fit state of mind to even contemplate it. Not that that stopped part of his mind from carrying on without his say-so, but there was really nothing he could do about that.

And then her question thankfully put him on more solid ground. "Nah, it's not dangerous. Nothing here will hurt you," he said firmly, shoving the memory of Aziraphale's discorporation and Pepper's brawl with War to a far corner of his mind. Adam wouldn't let anything like that happen to Kit, because...well, he just wouldn't, and that was all about it. "It just gets a bit odd now and again, is all."

He hesitated, half-tempted to stay put and get another drink (or two, or five) after she'd gone, but right now he honestly wasn't sure his stomach would take it. And he'd better find out what had Crowley in such a dither, anyway.* "Um. What floor you on? I'll walk you up. --As far as I'm going, anyway. ---I mean, if you want."

---

*Not like he needed somebody to talk to or to make sure he didn't pull anything stupid or anything like that. Nope, not at all.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Aye, all right. If you don't mind," Kit replied, trying not to sound as hesitant as she felt. She was uncomfortably aware that she and John, at least momentarily, must both have been thinking the same thing, and was just as certain that it wasn't going to happen. Neither of them was stupid enough to let it; or at least, she sincerely hoped so. Besides, by now her train of thought was shifting towards calculating the pros and cons of bolting for the door the way Crowley had earlier, and she wouldn't be surprised if John was thinking something of the same sort.

She'd deserve it, after all. She'd brought this upon him, without warning, and not the other way around. In fact, she should probably say something to that affect, she thought, but still hadn't clue what that something might be. She got up from her seat at the bar.

"Shall we?"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John nodded and rose as well, putting out his own cigarette and leaving the sodden mass of napkins where it was. He'd apologize to Belial later, if it came up.

He thought about offering her his arm, but not quite sure how she'd take it, he settled for falling in beside her at a respectable distance. "You'd be on the third floor, I expect?" he guessed. The big suites on the second were all occupied, as far as he knew.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Kit nodded as they fell into stride. She couldn't help but notice the polite distance between them as they entered the lobby; it felt odd, walking next to John like some recent acquaintance.

"In what used to be your room," she said, a hint of dryness to her tone, "or so I hear." She'd thought it odd when Adam had mentioned it to her, and by now was fairly well convinced that putting her in John's room had been no accident on the young man's part. "Unless that was just another bit of fun that Adam was havin'."

She was grateful when they reached the stairs, giving her some excuse to keep her gaze occupied.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Yeah? Last door on the left?" John rolled his eyes as she nodded. Just what game does that boy think he's playing? "Brilliant. I'll have to kick his arse for him then, squeezing you into that little hole in the wall." He hadn't minded the small space--liked it better than the one he was in now, which felt cavernous and ridiculously overdecorated by comparison, in fact--but there'd be precious little room up there for an artist to work, and the lighting was totally inadequate. Of course, if Kit only stayed a day or two, it'd be a moot point.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"It'll do," Kit replied vaguely. John had been, perhaps, waiting for a more definite answer on how long she would be staying; Kit had rather been hoping someone could miraculously answer that same question for her. "But if I decide his arse needs kickin', I'll let you know."

She paused when they reached the second floor landing, giving him a tentative glance. "This you, then?"

(Re-posting for spelling error)

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Yeah." He nodded down the hall toward his door. "That one right at the end, if you, uh--" He stumbled, hurriedly discarding want and need before settling on "--if anything comes up. Desk'll ring you through if you call down there, too."

Here he halted, caught between saying "Good night" and a terrible, unreasoning sense that when Kit went on up the stairs she'd once again vanish from his life without a trace. However he might tell himself it would probably be for the best if she did, the thought was already enough to inspire something akin to panic. Not good, not good at all.

"See you tomorrow, then," he said at last, awkwardly. But he found he could summon up a smile, if an uncertain one. They'd been friends once, he and Kit--there had to be something left of that, if they could just get past the other thing enough to find it. If that's what they were going to do. Should do.

Christ, he needed a drink.

<3

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Right. Well, you know where I'll be," Kit returned, though her gaze had become somewhat absorbed with the stairwell decor.

She was glad John could manage a smile in her direction; she just wished it wouldn't make her feel so damned girly. Honestly, if she started blushing again...

But she was almost surprised, after the stunt she'd pulled, that they were standing here saying good night in a civil manner. It was good, really, that they could leave it at that: awkward pleasantries seemed better at that moment than nothing at all.

She took a breath as though to speak, but no words came, and so she let it out slowly in an almost inaudible sigh. "Good night, John," she said, for the first time in years. And, returning the smile, she made her way up the next flight of stairs to her own room.