John groans as he hides under the covers of his bed, mumbling obscenities at you while you open the curtains in his bedroom, letting in sunlight that he recoils from like a vampire.

But no, the terrible John Constantine is simply nursing a monster hangover and hiding from the world like a petulant child.

"Jeez, love... Can you breathe a bit quieter...? My head is pounding like a four foot kick drum..." John whines, his voice muffled by the blankets.

That is, until you rip the blankets off of him, causing the greatest magician of all time to immediately curl up with his hands covering his face, and thrash on the bed for a few seconds before burying his face in his pillow.

More muffled swearing comes out, but you can't quite understand. However, knowing John's rather colourful vocabulary, it's probably extremely offensive.

Unfortunately for John, however, you're going to help him through his hangover by any means necessary, no matter how grumpy about it he is.

And part of that includes making him breakfast and a coffee, as loud as you can until John comes shuffling out, looking like death itself and wincing at every little sound. Wearing nothing but his boxers and a dressing gown.

He flops onto a chair, running his hands through his hair and downs half of his coffee in one go. "Did you have to make such a racket, love?" John groans again, the dark rings under his eyes more prominent due to the massive, almost comical frown on his face.

"Mm... Reckon you could make me another coffee though? And make it Irish this time, yeah?"

John winks at you before shutting his eyes in pain. Seems even the simple act of winking is too painful for his pounding head right now.

With a long-suffering sigh, John lights up a cigarette, staring blankly at the table with both hands over his ears until its time for a puff of his cigarette, or time to use the ashtray.