They certainly don't. [Again, Constantine's gaze flickers over Hiram, both appreciatively and with his own slight amusement. There's a touch of caution and interest there as well, if only because of that particular revelation in a place like this. As much as he'd like it to be otherwise, Constantine still has to instinctively consider if this could be a trap, and exactly how many innocents are around them if it is.]
So you're telling me that you're hundreds of years old and the son of Old Scratch? You're either bloody good at hiding it, mate, or lucky not to have been touched by that evil.
Not quite three-hundred, [ he admits, smile taking on a rueful note, ] and it's.. complicated, I guess. [ that's cliche, he knows, but he's not sure how else to sum it up.
he shifts, leaning on his elbows on the table, a hand lifting to push shaggy hair back behind his ear. ]
Can't lie, I was a bitter, hateful thing for a long while. Then I learned how to look like humans and found out you're not all bad. [ he hesitates, head tipping slightly. ] As far as dear old dad goes, he's never actually said a word to me, but I've never asked him to, either. Maybe that's what he's waiting for, I don't know.
Better that you don't ask and don't try and get any contact there. It'll only end badly, trust me.
[He finds it odd as well that there hadn't been any attempt to control or corrupt Hiram at all, and might have considered it a ruse... but even searching his own memory, Constantine couldn't recall any actual deaths of anything more than livestock being blamed on the Leeds Devil.]
Why the bitterness then? Seems like you've been lucky to escape getting caught up in his plans.
He may've had plans, I don't know. [ he sits back again, spine softening in the seat until he's in an easy sprawl. ] Anyway, it doesn't take the devil to teach someone to hate. I was abandoned by my mother and I was a monster. You don't want to see my other shape, but trust me, it's more than enough to make people fear me.
[ and who'd been there to teach him right from wrong? the coven who'd had a hand in his raising had been inclined toward encouraging more wicked pursuits, and the good quakers at the time had been more likely to run screaming than stop to talk.
he drains the last of his beer and sets the bottle down on the table again, brows lifting, mouth quirking up again. ]
Anyway, as it turns out, I've a mind to question things, and I'm more open-minded than I used to think I was. So here I am, somewhat less devilish than I'm certain some would like. [ a beat, and his smile widens. ] More cryptid than devil, actually, I think. Cryptids are more fun.
That it don't, handsome. Good for you not taking it to heart. Lot of others would have turned their back on humanity for less.
[It's entirely possible that the stories aren't correct about Hiram's demonic parentage - that it might have been a lesser demon or something else entirely - but it hardly matters. Constantine is largely grateful he won't have to send a seemingly nice gent to Hell after all.
And with the drinks almost gone, he's reminded again of that teasing glimpse of tongue earlier. His thumb circles the mouth of his own bottle as meets Hiram's gaze and quirks an eyebrow.]
Are they now? Maybe we should take our leave and find out.
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So you're telling me that you're hundreds of years old and the son of Old Scratch? You're either bloody good at hiding it, mate, or lucky not to have been touched by that evil.
no subject
he shifts, leaning on his elbows on the table, a hand lifting to push shaggy hair back behind his ear. ]
Can't lie, I was a bitter, hateful thing for a long while. Then I learned how to look like humans and found out you're not all bad. [ he hesitates, head tipping slightly. ] As far as dear old dad goes, he's never actually said a word to me, but I've never asked him to, either. Maybe that's what he's waiting for, I don't know.
no subject
[He finds it odd as well that there hadn't been any attempt to control or corrupt Hiram at all, and might have considered it a ruse... but even searching his own memory, Constantine couldn't recall any actual deaths of anything more than livestock being blamed on the Leeds Devil.]
Why the bitterness then? Seems like you've been lucky to escape getting caught up in his plans.
no subject
[ and who'd been there to teach him right from wrong? the coven who'd had a hand in his raising had been inclined toward encouraging more wicked pursuits, and the good quakers at the time had been more likely to run screaming than stop to talk.
he drains the last of his beer and sets the bottle down on the table again, brows lifting, mouth quirking up again. ]
Anyway, as it turns out, I've a mind to question things, and I'm more open-minded than I used to think I was. So here I am, somewhat less devilish than I'm certain some would like. [ a beat, and his smile widens. ] More cryptid than devil, actually, I think. Cryptids are more fun.
no subject
[It's entirely possible that the stories aren't correct about Hiram's demonic parentage - that it might have been a lesser demon or something else entirely - but it hardly matters. Constantine is largely grateful he won't have to send a seemingly nice gent to Hell after all.
And with the drinks almost gone, he's reminded again of that teasing glimpse of tongue earlier. His thumb circles the mouth of his own bottle as meets Hiram's gaze and quirks an eyebrow.]
Are they now? Maybe we should take our leave and find out.