1965-01-05 - What's the thing with the cat all about?
Summary: Yeah, John, tell us
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
morbius constantine 


After the curious incident with the cat, Morbius follows John out from Lamont's home, informing him that Lindon has fallen asleep again and he's put him to bed. He attempts to wait, patiently, expectantly, waiting for an explanation about Puck and what the hell's happening there, but eventually it gets to be too much and he asks, "John, what's the business with the cat about?"


Constantine let up no information about the porch until asked and was oddly subdued and agreeable having his thoughts on another plane (quite…possibly in a literal sense?!). He took a deep breath and instead of addressing his business with said 'cat' said, "You are aware that life is not on Earth and Earth alone and to expect so is an act of hubris and fear yadda yadda and not at all scientifically supported." He didn't look to Michael. He already knew his shit and Michael knew John knew he knew this shit so onward he went. "You are familiar then with Asgardians and sometimes, as physics that are… not entirely explainable to teh laymen yet are concerned, ways to travel what some call 'dimensionally'." You know what on he went. If he wasn't on the page he had an analytical mind and contextual agreement to work with. "Like the Asgardians Puck is from parentage that is from somewhere else. We call it 'cat' becasue Puck is cat shaped. It is felinoid and perhaps genetically similar. You should ask." Thre was a lilt of support in that suggesting John would be interested in reading that report. That siad cats all hadve innate ability, and as Puck is not a feline felinius? More ability. Short story? When you leave the house? Just check your pockets, mate."


Best to not give Michael a place to stop and answer in between at this point, though he does follow. It might be construed as insulting if there was an actual answer paused for, or at least met with a good amount of snark and 'no shit, John' in his own Morbius way. Europeans.

"The cat that Stephen Strange gave Lindon is not a cat." His tone carries something dangerous in it. Another spark of that thrilling vampyric territorial nature he tries to repress as much as his humanity is able to. "To what ends? For what purpose?"


Constantine did not in fact, though, stop and was pleased to see Morbius didn't disappoint his mental expectation of him. Truthfully, beyond him being referred to in slang as 'gutter mage' from his immodest upbringing and really dirty fighting approach to the craft on the appearance, he could articulate a world when he wanted to,, and patiently. He looked to Morbius and boggled. "For the same reason any bloke gets a cat I suppose. Same reason women want a pedigree pooch. There's no logical reason beyond: because Strange wanted to sare it with him."


The boggled look is given a flat one in return from the pale creature masquerading around like he has all of his humanity in tact. "Do not give me that look, John. You cannot compare a cat-shaped creature to an Asgardian, gifted to a relic in a man's body, and not ask the question of 'why'." Science, John! Science! "Asking 'why' and the pursuit of which is what makes us intelligent creatures of any note." Morbius then pauses and murmurs with a cant of his head faintly to the side, "That and opposable thumbs."

Still! Morbius lifts a hand through the air to discount the latter and press forward. "Call me paranoid, I suppose, but even allies can have ulterior motives. I thought of all people, you would understand that, John."


Constantine waggled his eyebrows with an attempt at dry humor though his heart wasn't into the savvyness at the moment. "Gotta enjoy the hell out of the opposable thumbs." Finally he looked at the Doctor, "Michael, you know better than I that emotions are not logical. Strange has a number of things alien to our planet. It gave birth, he decided to gift it to Lindon. I don't understand honestly what moves most people to give gifts off holiday." He considered this and squint, "Honestly I think it was to cheer the relic up after he relized people want to strip his binding out of him and rifle through his being like a rolodex. I think it was meant to cheer him up or something."


"You seemed a fan of them recently," Morbius hums back dryly and inhales a deep breath, worriedly as he looks back in the direction of the house. Willing himself to let it go. A weary looking affirmative and wave of Morbius' hand in a classic 'intellectual gesture of dismissal' on the line of thought and concern. "I apologize. The rolodex business has me on edge, and Lindon's general overly-friendliness with anyone he meets makes me suspicious of those I shouldn't be. I come off seeming like an ass more than usual. Yes. Of course. A gift."


Constantine stopped and tooke a deep breath, eyes closed pacing all things out in his mind, though pausing to nod in agreement. Go thumbs. Woo. Finally he summarized, "Look, I'm not a big fan of trust as a whole because I can tell you truths about so called apexes of benevolence and I'll cite you can't trust anyone. That said? Strange has proven himself enough and he also knows trust is bollocks. SO if you will? I appeal to your sense of logic and give you that he has a consistent pattern of behaviour that displays no ill intent towards Lindon, and Lindon is not the first relic the man's guarded. So. There's… that." He paused and squint a wary look to the vampire, "Never tell Strange I endorsed him, yeah?"


Constantine stopped and took a deep breath, eyes closed pacing all things out in his mind, though pausing to nod in agreement. Go thumbs. Woo. Finally he summarized, "Look, I'm not a big fan of trust as a whole because I can tell you truths about so called apexes of benevolence and I'll cite you can't trust anyone. That said? Strange has proven himself enough and he also knows trust is bollocks. SO if you will? I appeal to your sense of logic and give you that he has a consistent pattern of behaviour that displays no ill intent towards Lindon, and Lindon is not the first relic the man's guarded. So. There's… that." He paused and squint a wary look to the vampire, "Never tell Strange I endorsed him, yeah?"


Exchanging a look with the cosmic midwife, Morbius seems in agreement. "It would take some very strong persuasion to convince me to add to the magician's ego. No matter how well-earned it may be." A faint smile twitches on Michael's mouth. "I appreciate the confirmation of consistant data, John. Thank you. I had too few examples to rely on on my own, so, yes." Those inhuman red eyes drop and lifts again in an instant, salvaging his ego from that admitted failing on his part. "Thank you. Shall we?" A gesture onward so he doesn't have to dwell.


Constantine actually cracked a grin, "Well that means you have to take my word for what it is which might be shite, but all evidence suggests this math is good, mate." He watched and offered the scholar an 'out'. "In science we question everything to know anything. SOme say the earth was flat until we questioned it. It was always round. It didn't become unflat, we did. From discovering something new in the truths we think we know? Maybe we gain dimension… or maybe I'm just in need of a drink to stop pontificating our of my arse. You want anything?"


Constantine goes on to expound upon the theories of scientific causality between reality and the gaining knowledge and Morbius listens. Listens with a bemused half of a whispers smile enigmatically stretched across his lips. "Glimpsing the universe through a pinhole," Michael hums with drifting, pensive intonation. Then it breaks and comes back to the moment, glancing away briefly. "God, yes. Though, I rather like listening to you pontificate on these matters. How many drinks do you need in you before I convince you to continue?"


Constantine waded to the side bar taking it all in stride and being, as always, blunt and frank as a bowling ball through a church window. There was a chortle that answered, "Really? Zero. You don't get this indignant sitting on your laurels, Doc." That said there was a klak-ak-ak-ak of the burner catching and the kettle going on. A shoulder leaned into the frame of the door at an angle, one ankle over hte other, as he fished out his zippo. Hunting for a cigarette he watched what the Doc wasn't saying but how he was saying it and the information he fished for. He had something he cared about and was at risk in a high stakes game of losing it in its entirety. Imaginary echoes of a small voice drifted around the apartment audible to him that he drown out with the grinding wheel of his lighter. "If it helps you, mate, I'll talk about whatever. Trust me, There are stories we could tell you. Bottom line? Words don't fekkin matter. Trust is only worth what you invest into it and if the RoI is good? Profit as you will. Like the stock market it's a gamble made up of trends and environmental factors though every now and then? We are pleasantly fekkin surprised. Who knew?" His expression boggled as he went back for the kettle.


"I'm sure that you have a great many stories to tell, John," Michael gestures gently with a hand to fend him off briefly while he makes his way to the bottle of whiskey and opens it so that it's ready to spike the tea. But not before he takes a pull straight from the bottle. Like a filthy gutter drunk.

"Stories of amazing and mostly terrible things that would make my world seem far more than just a sphere. I have no doubt about any of that." Keeping the bottle uncapped, he strolls in John's direction, setting the whiskey on the counter near the burner. Pulling a couple of cups over to prep. "And though your cynicism on the general plight of existence and the complications of interpersonal relationships is refreshing in its own way in this 'all you need is love' sentiment the world seems to be thriving on right now," Michael continues, pressing his hand onto the counter and leaning on it while he crowds some of John's personal space. "The metaphor is a little tired. I've never been much of a banker."


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