One last glance at the chameleon dance...
Eve Constantine is no stranger to having incredibly weird shite going around. She's usually the cause of it, or attempting to kick the arse of the one who caused it. And sometimes, she's in the corner, going 'Da, did you really mean to do that, because I don't think that tentacly-thing's supposed to be there'.
She'd done everything exactly right. The sigil had been inscribed perfectly. Every last little bit of Latin had been chanted - no inappropriately-timed mispronunciation of words this go around, thank you very much. She'd had the proper incense, the proper candles, the cricket bat for a little extra encouragement...
There was absolutely no reason for her to be on her arse in the middle of a room in a strange place. And yet, somehow, she was.
"Oh fuck me, Da's going to be pissed."
She'd done everything exactly right. The sigil had been inscribed perfectly. Every last little bit of Latin had been chanted - no inappropriately-timed mispronunciation of words this go around, thank you very much. She'd had the proper incense, the proper candles, the cricket bat for a little extra encouragement...
There was absolutely no reason for her to be on her arse in the middle of a room in a strange place. And yet, somehow, she was.
"Oh fuck me, Da's going to be pissed."