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John
Remus left the pie on the counter, put on the new scarf and coat he'd gotten for Christmas, and walked down the street to the nearest bar.
He ordered a rare steak and ate it quickly, and then just sat at the bar sipping bottom shelf whiskey.
"Mmhmm," he nodded. The beer arrived and he took a sip. "Got that sorted. And you don't seem to be a problem, so you haven't seen me. You sound close to pissed, mate."
"John," he said, flashing him a little smile. "John Constantine."
"You're already off my radar," he assured him.
"Nice to meet you on better terms, Remus."
"I'd imagine so," he said casually. "But you go into lock down, don't you?"
Of course he did. John was well aware.
"Last meal of the damned?" John asked as he caught the bartenders attention and motioned to refill Remus's glass.
"How long have you been...this?" John asked, keeping casual. He didn't want to say 'werewolf'...who knew who might be listening.
"Jesus wept," he said softly. "Just a kid."
"Why would anyone think it's your fault?" John replied. "Fucking wizards. Bunch of bigots."
"There you go," he grinned, sipping his beer when Remus drank. "You still with that faerie?"
John watched him drink.
"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, a little sympathetic.
"Sounds like he's a wanker," John said. "You going to give him what-for?"
"But you're sprung," he sighed with a shake of his head. "My friend, you need to run away from that mess. You do realize how dangerous he is, right?"
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