Through the looking glass

[constantbastard]

John is well acquainted with desperate gambits. He's a big risk player. All or nothing. Right now, though, he's just hoping this balances out in the end. If so, maybe he'll never be back here again. A man shouldn't have to visit hell too many times in a lifetime. It can't be good for the mental and spiritual health

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[molotovmartinis]

Balthazar eyes them both critically, eyes hooded in calculation. If his cooperative spirit is surprising, it only speaks to the desperation of his position. He's all business. Well, he's never all business; he has an oily, profoundly irritating image to maintain, even and especially in his disgraced state.

"They'll see what they expect to see, for the most part, and you're already tainted. But you could do with some touch ups." Har har. "Like the eyes, for starters. Do you want me near your squishy globular organs, or would you like to take care of that?"

He'd said 'extra set of hands', so hopefully that entailed helping rather than doing it on his own. Not that he would admit it, but he probably didn't have the finesse for it, not as he is.

[constantbastard]

The eyes will be a rather big inconsistency. There are a few problems here, however. For one, he's kept himself tethered to his body. Just in case, you understand. Security purposes. However, this means things he does to his soul have a chance of arseing up the fleshy real estate it belongs in. The other, larger, problem is that he has no mirror and two evils to choose the lesser of in helping him here.

"Bugger an' bloody fuck..." He takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a long drag and looking back and forth between Balthazar and his own, bored, counterpart. "I'd really rather not have the either of you near my ocular cavities, given my druthers."

The other one laughs, and it's an even more self-satisfied and caustic sound than the original's. He tosses his own smoke aside and steps closer to his twin. "Come now, Johnny. I wouldn't do anything to ruin this. I'm smarter than that. We're smarter than that. ... Besides, I can be real quick about it..." His grin is a horrible thing to behold

[molotovmartinis]

It's a fascinating thing to behold. Oh, poor John... Balthazar moves a little closer to watch, naturally. For once, it's the demonic Constantine he pays more attention to, getting a feel for his presence and taking in all the most obvious differences. He suspects this is going to taint John quite a bit more than the he'd hoped for, but they can clean him up later. Probably.

Picking up the demon's discarded smoke, he examines the end and crushes a bit of ash between his fingers. It'll do.

"Hold still, John," he chides, reaching for the other man's hand. A little symbol from the cigarette butt, and that same sickly gray should overtake John's skin like a filthy film.

[constantbastard]

The blood burns --it always burns-- and he tries to rub it from his eyes but the other grabs his hands. The thick, vile stuff seeps down into his eyes and he's sure he's going to be blinded and have to claw this fucker apart for it. The whites of his eyes cloud and swirl with an inky blackness that fills them up. The shining, clear, sharp blue becomes a bright and wicked red

[constantbastard]

It's a bit of an uncomfortable cluster-fuck on the other side of that passage. John didn't anticipate that he would be pulled into his body, and it drawn to him, as soon as he crossed onto the same plane with it. Not only, that, but bound to it. Tim is rather unceremoniously forced out.

He feels it best to try and avoid all those who had been in attendance for the exit to hell. Too many questions, no doubt. Besides, he needs to find ways around the safe guards he's surely made against himself. For instance? Upon a quick trial, he finds he can't leave the nexus.

"Tsk. John, you clever bastard. Ah well. Sure some kind soul round the nexus will be willing t'aid my vacation travels."

[molotovmartinis]

"Surely." Balthazar skulks a few paces behind John, watching him closely. Looks like John's inherited his stalker as well. But Balthazar has his reasons. Such as, he may be back, but he's not back — he's still mortal, and that just won't do. He has ideas how to fix this.

"If only I had a little kickstart to get back to normal. A little blood, say. Then I might be able to lend a hand." And he's been so handy, hasn't he? The blood wouldn't fix the problem, but it would open a lot of doors.

[constantbastard]

Though not quite the same effect they had in hell, John's eyes look -- off -- as he studies Balthazar; his new hanger-on. This is a hazard of not being a real soul, coupled with a heavy dose of demonic taint. Most would never notice.

He arches a brow, almost surprised at how brazenly this fallen fop is begging for help and making hollow offers. He almost wonders how such a natural could lose their post.
"That right? I scratch yer back, an' you scratch mine, then, son? ... And just what sort of 'and will you lend?"

[molotovmartinis]

"You can still enter and exit Hell, can't you? If I had a chance to regain my powers, then my network of portals there would be open to you."

But what he's really saying is that given the blood, he has a chance to resume his halfbreed status by doing something else, and only then would the portals be available.

It's not the worst deal he's ever offered, but it's nothing he's proud of. Do what must be done. After all, he has a much better chance of killing and absorbing Saul Constantine if he has a demonic boost.