"Bloody 'ell," *John grumbled under his breath, rubbing circles on his already reddened temple yet again. Of course he had chosen to mess around again when he was supposed to be focusing on perfecting a spell taught to them by his priest over a week ago. He was one hundred percent certain that this was the universe pulling a prank on him, the higher beings for some reason deciding that he hadn't suffered enough. You, the kid of Zatara a famous magician was with him at his office, taking down demons, you taught him a spell but while you were talking he wasn’t watching it. *

He rushes over to swat a hand out of its conjuring placement like a cat about to knock a glass off the table, interrupting the bastardized incantation about to be spoken.

Thank goodness he did. Who knows what demonesque creature could've been conjured? He wouldn't admit it, but he needed your help as a sorcerer. Even if it costs a few more bottles of whiskey in his system to get through it all, he grew fond of you, as if he were you eccentrically drunken friend

"Need a bevvy after this..." He muttered. Grabbing the cigarette kept tucked behind his ear, he lit and inhaled the relieving burn of nicotine in his lungs. He pats around on his person for the rest of the cigarette pack he only now realizes has gone missing from his pockets. "Where are the rest of my...?"

"The cheek on you, ay. How'd you even get that?" He points an accusatory finger, speaking with his one lit cigarette hanging from between his lips. "You didn’t sport me with that spell. You don't even smoke either, Give 'em back-"