Zed had tried dresses on for hours. This stupid mission had drained more than half her bank account and all of her patience. John had been invited to Papa Midnite's Friday 13th Masquerade ball and of course he couldn't turn up without a date. "Stupid, arrogant exorcist" she thought whilst taking out the rollers in her hair. Zed was under no illusions what the invitation meant. John didn't mix business with pleasure. No, this is all about his stupid pride.
"And make sure you're dressed to accompany someone of my stature love!" he'd casually thrown over his shoulder, cigarette hanging from his smirking lips. She'd thrown her charcoal at him, marking the crisp white shirt which she always thought was a poetic contrast to the state of his soul.

Flipping her head upside down, she shook out the loose curls the rollers had created, so much softer and shinier than her usual haphazard curls. Perfect. She removed her dressing gown, revealing her only selfish purchase that day. A matching underwear set, turquoise silk and black lace, perfectly complimenting her coffee and cream complexion. She stretched to take her dress down from the hanger resting on the wardrobe door.

"Need a hand, love?" said a voice from the doorway.

Zed spun so fast she almost missed his appreciative glance down her body. "Get out! Don't you knock first?!" Her words tumbled out in a stream of indignant rage and fumbled, in a rush, to grab her dressing gown. Johns open look of amusement when the soft silk of the gown slipped out her fingers and down under the vanity table was the last straw. She turned round, and his face was the picture of innocence, curiously waiting to see what she'd do next. Screw him, she thought, she'd rather eternal damnation than bend over in her underwear.

"Get. Out!" hands on her hips, she refused to move and she wasn't giving him the satisfaction of looking uncomfortable. Slowly he turned round, and waved a hand, indicating for her to get dressed.

"Y'know, if you weren't after an audience love, you might want to shut your door when getting dressed. Anyone could have wandered in here." Though sarcasm drenched his voice, he did sound repentant, she thought. But he still hadn't apologised. Like hell that was going to happen.

"Looks like they already did. What did you want anyway, besides. The. Peepshow?" she asked, her words punctuated with every yank of the ridiculous tight dress over her hips.

"I just wanted to go through a few things with you before we left. I know you've met him before, but now he knows who you are and by now someone will have told him what gifts you possess. He's a collector and a relentless one at that. No matter what he says love, do not trust him. He could be handing you a drink with one hand and damning your bloody soul with the other." He was nervous, she could tell. The leg twitch, the constant flicking of his lighter. She wondered why he was going at all if he was so anxious.

"The only reason I'm even bloody going is because Papa Midnites collection is vast and more than a little dangerous. Hopefully I'll be able to "borrow" some of his toys, if I can figure where the sneaky bastards hiding it all." She could hear the smile in his voice at the thought. Even with all the power he wielded, nothing brought him more pleasure than outwitting someone the old fashioned way.

"So where do I come in then, because I gotta say, i'm not gonna be much help in the heels I'll be wearing" she said, stepping into her shoes and tugging at the zip on her dress.

"I'm gonna need someone to point me in the right direction. I'm not sure you'll be able to help, but Chas is with Geraldine this week and besides, you look much better in a dress" he turned with a flourish just as she was struggling with the zip at the back of her dress.

"But anyway, like I said, need a hand?" he said, moving towards her. She lowered her hands in defeat and turned around. Her dress was mostly backless, but the zip that went over her behind and to the small of back was proving troublesome. She felt his fingertips against her back, bringing the two sides of fabric together and inhaled the smell of cigarettes and men scent that seemed to follow him. She took advantage of his attention being elsewhere and studied him in the mirror. Suddenly his eyes flashed up to hers and his hands came up to rest on her shoulders.

"There, all done. Now, let's look at you" She turned and watched his face with curiosity. The dress was shimmering black and floor length with a slit up one side. It hugged her curves and plunged down to below her cleavage. Seeing Constantine's look now, she knew the frontless bra had been worth it. She could see him following the line of uninterrupted smooth skin from her clavicle to just above her belly button. Her hair fell in loose curls, now slightly straighter, to the small of her back and her features popped with the makeup she'd applied. His eyes finally rested on her face, paying particular attention to her lips, shimmering with blood red lip-gloss. Exposing her leg up to the thigh, she gave Constantine a scorching look, meant to unnerve.

"Will I do?" she asked coyly. This was the first time she'd actually seen him without a wise crack.

He took a deep breath and returned the look she'd given him. He knew what game she was playing. But only because he sometimes took part in a few rounds with her, himself.

"…Yes." He said, getting back to business, "and remember what I said. Stay away from Midnite. If he recognises you tonight you'll make the top of his to do list for more than one reason, looking like that."

She was starting to wonder whether she'd make someone elses "to do" list that night.