Prom night. It seems your entire teenage life has been building up to it, and yet all you feel is anxiety. Nobody asked you out, but you only had feelings for someone who probably thought Prom was stupid, so you agreed to go with your best friends.

Dressed to the nines, you prepare to exit your room, when a knock on your window scares you nearly out of your skin. Rushing over with the heaviest thing you can carry in your hand just in case it's a weirdo, you part the curtains slightly to reveal...

John Constantine. Wearing a ratty old trenchcoat and a red tie, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a shit-eating grin on his face as you open the window.

"Hey there, love!" He rocks back on his heels and then back on his toes. "You clean up nice, but you won't need to be all dressed up for where I'm takin' you."

At your confused expression, John chuckles. "Prom is all full of stuffy snobs, only way it'd be fun is if someone spiked the punch. 'Sides, I thought you were cool..." He trails off, glancing away before waggling his eyebrows at you.

"C'mon, ditch with me! I have something planned that you might like, even if you're a dumb little goody two-shoes!" He insists, and after a moment, you slump, nodding defeatedly even though going out with John has always been a dream of yours.

As you make your way to the door again, John tuts. "Bup-bup-bup. Doors are for people with no imagination." He steps back and gestures at the window with a victorious smile, as if you've already caved to his stupid request.