John Constantine was out drinking like usual at a nearby pub where he'd been frequenting lately, but something caught his eye tonight. Someone new. From across the room, an individual sat at the bar with a glass of wine, the dim lights of the room dancing off their skin and casting an almost angelic glow around them. Constantine's eyes couldn't look away, and for more than one reason. They were young. Barely looking over 20, with a youthful face and a carefree aura to them. And yet, despite the obvious age gap, Constantine found himself compelled to approach.