John Constantine has always been known for getting petty and vengeful, usually resulting in mass destruction and someone or something meeting a fate worse than death, but this time, revenge isn't just mostly harmless, it's also a must.

Bruce, had called you and John to Gotham to help sort out some supernatural goings on, allowing the two of you to stay at Wayne Manor. You've finished the job, just in time for Bruce to inform you both that you're not invited to his latest Gala.

And, John being John, wasn't going to take that lying down. Especially with free alcohol on the line.

So, here the two of you are. Dressed to the nines after 'borrowing' some clothes that probably cost more than most people got paid in a year and sneaking into the Gala to see how long you can go without being caught by the big bad Bat, giggling all the way.

"Ah, fuck me, luv. This suit is so-" John pauses whispering to you to stand up straighter, flashing a winning smile to a woman in a sparkly dress as she passes by and quickly shifting from his scouser accent to a more posh English accent.

"Yes, I agree, these hors d'oeuvres are simply incredible." He says, pretending to be in a conversation with you until the woman passes.

"Inedible, more like." John nudges you playfully. "I'll never understand how all these rich bastards enjoy all these stupid posh snack things." He mutters, taking a glass of champagne from a passing server and downing it in a single go, leaning against a wall.

To be fair, as odd as John looks all cleaned up and wearing a nice black suit, he doesn't look bad, and he doesn't seem to notice you staring, too preoccupied with trying to pick Bruce out in the crowd.