Human Nature
Disclaimer: All characters are © Warner Brothers Entertainment, NOT ME!
Why exactly he always seemed to be out at night stumped him a little. A half-breed demon could be around in the daytime, as long as they didn't hang around in direct sunlight. But they all favored the night, whereas the angels held no preference. They were all a load of shit, anyway.
Los Angeles was stuffy and hot in the day, but at night a breeze would sometimes pick up and the occasional rain would bring in some relief. John Constantine ambled down the street, the spattering of lights in the dark before him throwing street corners an the insides of the restaurants and shops into the sallow yellow light made by man. He stopped at his favorite Japanese food stall where everything was served in Styrofoam. Sitting at the stool he always chose, he ordered a plate of chicken teriyaki with fried rice and a black coffee.
He liked facing inside and watching the cooks go about their business instead of feeling obligated to look interested in the comings and goings of the clueless people at his back. Everyone was so damn oblivious. Sometimes, lots of the time, he wondered why he had to be aware. Why he had to see.
There was a pale person in a long black coat beside him, ordering a black coffee. The voice was faint but tinged with the velvet arrogance of a half-breed. He threw a sideways scowl in the pale person's direction.
"Nice to see you again, John," Constantine eyed the half-breed whose face was hidden by the curling yellow hair. The voice was aggravatingly familiar.
"Gabriel," he growled- not a half-breed, a lunatic ex-archangel. Possibly the only thing more irritating than the devil himself.
"Father chose to make me a female," she said calmly, smoothly, and far too conversationally.
"Really," he growled, to imply that he did not care. Either way she still looked like an adolescent boy.
"You've not changed," she commented dryly.
"Did you expect me to?" he asked, taking his plate of food from the tiny Oriental cook. He pulled the plastic fork out of the plastic wrapper it was in. Her chuckle annoyed him.
"Of course not,"
"So how does a half-breed basket case go about being human?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow, wondering if it was yet possible to provoke her.
"It's quite simple, really," she sipped the coffee. "You eat, sleep, work, go to church, pray,"
"Oh, so now you're in our side?" he asked, now truly angry. She had once been so keen to hand all the immortal souls to Mammon.
"I don't see as I've got a choice, John," She always used that tone, as if she were speaking to a child. You're still a filthy half-breed to me.
"You fucking hypocrite," he spat, getting off of his stool in a sudden lack of appetite.
"Is hypocrisy not human nature?" she asked, now finally turning to him, the eyes a deep and icy blue. Her stupid, arrogant smile made him even angrier, but he was defeated. Flaws in general were human nature.
"Gabriel, there are times I wish I'd shot you," he growled, turning away to unfold the collar on his coat and shield his face from the cold wind that was picking up, promising rain. The pale, severe, beautiful woman just stared after him, with the aggravating smirk on her face.