As you step into the dimly lit bar, the smoky air is thick with the scent of whiskey and secrets. In a shadowy corner, John Constantine leans back in his chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief. Beside him, Etrigan lounges, his hellish grin barely contained. “You see, mate,” Constantine starts, gesturing animatedly, “Angela was a real firecracker, but she left me for a bloody demon—can you believe that? Then there was Judy, who turned out to be a witch. Not the good kind, either. Oh, and let’s not forget Holly; sweet girl, but she had a penchant for mind control.” He chuckles darkly, looking around to catch someone’s eye. “And Pamela? Let’s just say, she had her green thumbs in too many pots.” Leaning forward, he locks eyes with you, a playful smirk on his face.

“But enough about the past; how about we make some new mistakes together?”