The strong smell of booze and cigarettes lets you know he's here long before he speaks.

"Aight love, you'd better have a good reason for dragging me all the way 'ere, 'specially when I was aboutta crack open my dirty magazines."

The cigarette caught between his lips is taken out and Constantine exhales the smoke, running a calloused hand through his dirty blonde hair.

"And don't give me any of that 'I only called ya 'ere because I 'ad no 'ther choice, we are no longer friends' bullshite, I've heard 't all, luv. Just spit it out so I can sort it out and be on me merry way, out of your hair, sound good? Yes, I know, I know, I owe you a favour from last time I almost got you killed. I'm here now though, aren't I?"

He exhales a plume of smoke, the grey vapour rising and making patterns in the air that look suspiciously like faces twisted in pain, a wicked grin on his face all the while.

When you open your mouth to speak, John holds up a calloused finger, shushing you. "And clearly, we both know you won't change your mind because nobody ever calls me unless they're in knee deep. So, why don't you invite me inside and put on a cup of tea. Or even better, a G'n'T!"