1965-01-28 - Recovery and Drunken Communing
Summary: Jesse and John recover from the previous night's investigations, and Jesse decides to get drunk to have a chat with Gen.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
jesse cassidy constantine 

It had been an eventful night, but the following day, Cassidy had already cleaned up the livingroom and the table had a few new knick-knacks strategically covering the singe marks. Cassidy himself had slept through most of the morning into the afternoon, rising only after the sun had begun to cross toward the setting side of noon. He was, as always, careful to avoid windows, sunbeams, and the like, but he was shuffling about and up, making coffee.

Jesse's dreams had been untroubled. With the disc nearby, Gen had settled down and she didn't bother him again for the rest of the night.

John woke with the vision still fresh in his head, and a knowledge of what the disc said on it, regardless of whether he could translate it or not, which might seem weird — but then, what doesn't seem weird in John's world?

Jesse slept well, without angry demon-angels trying to gnaw his brain into mush, but he sleeps a long while. Healing up from that whiplash from the 'incidiary incantation'. But hey, scotchguarding worked well.

The preacher doesn't shuffle into the living space without a shower to wake himself up first, bringing the coin with him into the bathroom to sit on the sink while he scrubs up, then back to his bedroom to dress, and into the front pocket of his black jeans and un-wrinkled dress shirt and jacket. Thanks, Cass. His hair is still damp, still sticking up in every crazy direction when he meanders out into the rest of the house and smells coffee. Following the smell.

Constantine sat bolt upright on the couch from where his body was unceremoniously discarded (okay, with care, cure, and thanks mates). His hands were flailing defensivly in front of his face waking up in defensive incant, "Estus nadour eti nes-Folgers?!" His vision wasn't restored entirely but his sense of smell was. It was an uncoordingated scaramble to see what had happened. Hands patted the tables and from teh wreckage he sought that bowl.

The bowl was gone. Cassidy had already taken it into the kitchen and washed it out. He may have also consumed some of the vodka that was in it before doing so. But now, he's just pouring coffee. One mug is outstretched toward Jesse without a word, already the way that he likes it. Another is poured for John, and by the time the uncoordinated Constantine stumbles toward the kitchen, he extends that one, too, pressing it into John's hands so he doesn't have to actually see to find it. Then, he pours his own. He'd already been up, showered, and was dressed in a pair of jeans and a blood red turtleneck which gives him a strange sort of beatnik look, covering up all of his tattoos.

Mmmm. Damned vodka.

Jesse takes the mug when it's offered, groaning with gratitude in a graveled tone, dark eyes still just barely opening regardless of showering and dressing just fine, they flash up to Cass after the first drink and Jesse claps a hand on the vampire's shoulder. Perfect.

The stumbling around in the other room alerts him. Turning around to face the direction of the living room, Jesse plants a hand on the counter, hovering over his cup of joe. Waiting for John to stumble in with, well, probably something insane sounding.

Constantine didn't condemn the vodka, okay? He… might have ruined it a little. He assumes it survives. Who even knows. On the bright side he wasn't any more wrinkled than per usual though he could stand to use a shower and shave. A groan and a flex of eyebrows taking the coffee and just drinking it seemed to convey: cheers mate. Fianlly he murmured, "Who needs a fekkin guardian angel when we have Cass?" He squint at the vampire and shrugged, "You're aces, mate. So. WHere… did the trinket go? I'm taking by the lack of alarm we're mostly alright?" Though he looked down at his shirt trying to discern the smell he was smelling which was, to say, the foam from teh extinguisher had dissolved into him.

Cassidy grins over at Jesse and nods his head at the clasp to his shoulder, reaching up to give the man's forearm a squeeze before he glances over at the shuffling in John. "Pretty sure that a guardian angel'd be more trouble than it's worth. Guardian vampires are all the rage now." He rasies both brows and grins a little as he lifts his mug of coffee and takes a swallow from it. He nods his head in Jesse's direction when John asks about the doodad. "Gen gets cranky when it's too far away. Jesse's holdin' onto'er."

"How, uh, avant garde," Jesse comments, his voice carries a rasping crackle with it that sounds a lot like a dehydrated hang over. "Shit, Ah'd trust a vampire over an angel most days. Not something Ah could've anticipated sayin'." He inhales a deep breath and pauses when Cass nods a head in his direction. Is he holding onto it? A flicker of confusion, he touches his pocket and nods to confirm he's got it. Nods, rather than taking it out immediately.

Constantine had to agree with Cass there, "Ain't that the bloody truth of it?" the shrugged expression seemed to be one of agreement. A creature of Brevity John said with a casual air, "It's a compass. There's more parts, but we found a literal divining rod. Need that goes with it. Some manner of scale as well. I'll look into seeing what research turns up on that. Just…" He paused and squint at Jess and it might be hard to tell if he was speaking to his mate or the creature inside or both, "Best be careful nothing tracks back to you on it, yeah? If that oerson was 'God' and is omnipotent why on bloody earth would he need one?"

Cassidy leans against the counter and takes a swallow from his cup of coffee, glancing between John and Jesse as they talk about the doodad as some kind of compass. That makes one brow arch and he says, "Huh." But that's about all he has to say on the topic, letting those who are more familiar with mystical doodads discuss it. He offers up finally as almost an afterthought, "Well maybe it wasn't God but smoeone esle lookin' for'm?"

"A compass," Jesse repeats, a full eyebrow arching above its brother. Not a question. A comment. Huh. Wetting his lips, Preacher rubs his index finger against his mouth, hand curled around his chin. All those things were good questions that John proposed. Why the hell would God need a compass? And Gen was attracted to it—compelled. The hand drops back to the counter. "If it's a compass, Gen's stickin' to it like a piece of iron t' a magnet, John." He doesn't like what that could mean.

Listening to what Cass has to say on the matter, Jesse looks concerned and nods very slowly, shrugging. "Ah mean Ah can't imagine we're the only ones lookin' fer Him, so what if the thing ju's sticks t'anything divine?" He suggests mildly, looking over to John. "What'd you see when everythin' blew up?"

Constantine replied evenly, "The Virgin Mary givin me a lap dance." He sipped his coffee and leaned back, hips to counter, propping his hand on the edge. "Too much of too much as per usuaul. I saw it being used. Its purpose. That's how I know pieces are missing." He fell quiet and seemed to be sorting the puzzle out. "RIght like Cass said we know we ran into angels aready lookin for em. Us. Who knows ho else really? So someone works dimestore miracles, sure, and… what? Ditches the compass? I see three things and I'm open to more, but I seen too much to jsut take it at face value. 1) it's not god and they lost this. 2) it is god and we're being baited but why?! 3) we missed something. This compass ceratainly is."

"Unless it's a compass for finding Gen.. in which case, it found her," Cassidy says with another shrug of his shoulders. But then, he's just throwing things at the wall to see if they stick. "But if it's broken, then wouldn't it be unable to find what it was lookin' for? So maybe not." He taps his fingertips against his lips and says, "But then, why did boyo drop it in the river? Or was he lookin' for it in the river and didn't find it on account of the bus? Maybe… he was just there an' he got caught because the bus went in the river…" Now he's just rambling, shot gun approach.

"I can't imagine anyone iwth 'virgin' in their name can give a very good lapdance," Jesse muses with a little bit of thoughtfulness to his tone while he drinks his coffee. Giving Cassidy a glance when he says maybe it was meant to find Gen, he frowns a little bit. "Plenty of folks looking for her. Seems weird that we'd find just a piece of it. That's what's got me the most confused. Why a piece of it? Did someone break it to keep someone from finding—whoever? Gen. God." The preacher isn't any better at paring down the posibilities and closes his eyes with a frown, scrubbing a hand over the scruff accumulated on his face. "He wanders. They stray," he mutters again.

Constantine was unconscious for that tidbit and murmured, "I never said it was particularly good." To be fair. His eyes curiously sttled back on Jess, "He wanders. They stray? And I know people are looking for Genesis. That's how I found you, mate, remember??" Only JOhn found her and was, perhaps one of the only good parties to do so. "I mean, partly my bloody mess. Wanted to know she was alright before life on earth ended like it does every thursday."

|ROLL| Constantine +rolls 1d50 for: 49

|ROLL| Constantine +rolls 1d20 for: 16

|ROLL| Jesse +rolls 1d20 for: 11

"Well, look at what we saw in that church," Cass says from where he leans up against the counter, gesturing a bit with his mug. "They were all tryin' to cover up that he wasn't there. Perhaps while the cat's away, the mice are .. well they're doing whatever it is they want to do." That's his interpretation, anyway. He takes another swallow of his coffee an then turns back to the pot, offering to warm up everyone's cup a bit.

Jesse shakes his head slowly to Cassidy's offering, nodding slowly back to John and his reminder that he has a habit of finding people while looking for oddities. Still, Jesse seems quiet as he stares down into the cup of coffee; black reflecting black. "Yeah…she kept sayin' that. Gen. 'He wanders, they stray'. The preacher's brows knit together, a crease of worry between them as he pulls the coin out of his pocket. Setting his cup of coffee on the counter, he peels the singed cloth away from it and touches the metal. "It's got somethin' to do with her. That's for sure. And somethin' about Illinois? Ah'm…damn. Ah'm too sober for this."

Constantine turned to his mates and shrugged a shoulder, "No doubt it's to do with her. what I want to know is how do you misplace something like that? It was right off the bloody bridge easy enough for us to find. Someone…had to have left it there, Jess. Why is what we need to suss out."

«Jesse can feel a slight hum when he touches the disc directly. It's not an unpleasant feeling. It's just a kind of thrumming, as though the thing were gently vibrating. Gen seems to make a similar complimentary hum at the same time. Whatever it is, it seems to be in sync with her and she with it.»

Cassidy puts the coffee pot away when no one seems to want more and he takes another swallow from his own cup, finishing it off. "Well, maybe we oughta go to Illinois next and find out?" He's always game for a road trip. "I'll bring me snorkle this time."

What's that word? Resonance? Jesse exhales a slow breath when he takes the coin between his fingers, then rests it flat in the palm of his hand. "Yeah, Ah'll see if Ah can talk to her or somethin'. See if there's any other thoughts she's got on it, but ya know how she likes to clam up sometimes. Really, Ah can think of any number of reasons why someone left it there, I'm just hoping that we aren't playing into their hands. If they know we're hunting God and start performin' dollar store miracles along the way, this could get bad, quick, boys."

Constantine scoffed, "Wel's absolutely playing into their hands. The trick will be making them ill prepared to hold onto what they're grabbing for. Sometimes that bunny is a hedgehog. " He shook his head and considered the door to the workshop below giving it some thought. Finally he nodded, "I can clear it. Also, cass, got a mate of mine looking into something for the car. Darken up the windows for you in case. Hell we might consider just investing in a van if this keeps up for all these little mysteris we jaunt up on."

"Well, seems to me like someone wants us to find something, and it seems to know what we're going to come lookin' for. Sounds a lot like bait to me. But they wouldn't be the first fisherman to get pulled out of the boat and under the surface by what they were fishin' for," Cassidy says with a smile that is all teeth. Okay, so he may be feeling a bit peckish and it's starting to show a little. Then he nods to JOhn and says, "That's mighty nice of you, John. I do prefer not to have to wrap up like a little pig in a blanket every time we gotta go somewhere before the sun be goin' down."

Jesse flicks a pale smile between John and Cass. Well, pale at first, but looking at the two, the preacher seems to grow in confidence and exhale a short puff of laughter through his nose as he glances down again, fingering the coin around in his hand. "Lot of animal imagery there, boys. All right, then I guess we try to be hedgehog loch ness monsters, huh?" He shrugs. "I'll try to remember some of the details that Gen gave me. I'm forgetting stuff, but still have to suss it all out. Yeah, a panel van would be nice so we didn't have Cass here dying in the summer every time we went out. Good call John."

Constantine cracked a wry half grin on his tired expression giving Cass a wink. "Don' do that or I might take a bit outta ya. There's irony for you." John set the cup aside and patted the side of the Preacher's face, half palming it, "We got your back on this one, mate. Don' worry." Besides, he was getting something out of it too which made selflessness easier…when it was at least partly selfish. Looking upt o Cass he nodded, "Well I'm keeping company with a good number of nocturnals lately. No sense in you suffering if you don't have to."

"Figuratively or literally," Cass agrees, not beeing particularly keen on dying, or even getting close if he can help it. He finishes off his mug of coffee and sets it in the sink. Then he pushes off the counter and says, "Right. So.. Jesse tries t'commune with Gen an' see if she can tell us more about why she's so sweet on the disc, and John does some more research on divine compasses? And I'll plan our route to Illinois. That about right/"

Jesse looks between Constantine and Cassidy for a moment, an eyebrow arched. Just before his face is paled by the first man with the C-last name. "Good thing for it, too, John. So long as you're not getting yourself killed over all this Mills stuff. Yer a popular man these days, but I'm glad we got ya." Jesse winks and slides his attention in Cassidy's direction. "Sounds about right to me. Give it about a week to plan something proper, or do we want to just wing it? See when we all got the time to travel out into the middle of corn-fed nowhere?" Assuming it isn't Chicago.

Constantine shrugged. He really was busy as hell for a man not a native New Yorker, though it turned out he was here before and has contacts all over. Wizards really were a menace. Still, there was a sober nod. Alright, the man was clearing his calendar for this. "Hey, mate, I brought her into this world. I made a promise to see her protected. You too only… I wasn't your mum's midwife. That'd be weird. Even for me." That said he turned to refill his coffee. "I got enough elsewise I can do on teh road. I'll get to researching and see what I can't pick up. I have access to Strange's library to an extent so I can borrow what we might need."

Cassidy nods and says, "Little prep work, I think, an' then we can hit the road again. Give us a week or so of downtime here, an' I can put some feelers out, see if any of me old contacts have heard anything about anyone comin' lookin' for us, Gen, this disc doodad, or anythin' else fishy or divine soundin'. That way we can see if anythin' followe us back. Not that I'm hopin' that there did."

Tossing a wry smile in John's direction, Jesse picks up his coffee and takes a drink of it. "You don't know just how weird that would be, John." He smiles a bit, slipping the coin into his pocket, his hand remains clasped around it. "Sounds like a plan. Cass, let me know if you need help putting ears out. Ah might not be the most discrete looking person walking around the street but I still ought to be doing more than being the skin sack for John's girl to be rolling around in."

Constantine sighed and murmured, "Damn if that were only the first time that phrase been applied to my life." He shook his head and waded back out of the kitchen. "Well I have to go to chinatown for a lamb's heart. Can I get anyone anything while I'm out, now is the time to tell me. If we're heading out in a week I got some spellwork to start up on."

"Blood," Cassidy says without hesitation. "If you're gong to a butcher and getting a fresh one, see if they have blood. Doesn't matter what sort. Not picky. Just don't have anything on reserve at the moment." He leans over to see if John heard him then he leans back against the counter. He looks at Jesse then and says, "Aye, you're gonna help me with the fun parts," giving him a nudge with one elbow, "I like to call them the aggressive negotiations."

Jesse cranes his neck out there when Cass does, making the pair a little odd looking while the exorcist leaves. "Those fried pork dumplings from that place 'man wearing a hat, sawhorse, jigsaw piece'?" Describing the characters on the front sign rather than learning the name.

Turning back to Cass, he smiles slyly. "Now you're speakin' my language, Cass."

Constantine murmured form the other room, "Suuuuuure hog aaaaaaall the fun parts. Yes I'll stock the fridge for you Cass." He paused wanding into…well… his ex's rook to change talking through the whole bloody place. "You're welcome for the cow puns." And with that he headed to teh bathroom to shower the fire suppressent residue off of himself.

Cassidy chuckles as John disappears to finally de-fire-extinguish himself and then he looks back over at Jesse and says, "You didn' think I was gonna leave you out of all the fun, did ye?" His grin is all white teeth then, a glint in those pale grey eyes. He smirks a little as he hears John call out with the cow puns and just shakes his head, "Ha ha," he says loudly in the direction of the bathroom.

Jesse's smile a great deal more mellow than Cassidy's near manic pearly white grin. "You know, for a half second I thought you just might." Rolling his eyes at the cow pun, Jesse shakes his head. "Don't quit yer day job, John! I'll bring you back some teeth if we knock any out." Promises, promises, he winks at Cassidy.

Constantine called out from above the running water the latest Tom Jones as if an answer to their heckling over his bad humor to the tune of 'It's not un-us-u-al to be looooved by anyone…' This is the man you voluntarily dragged back across country guys. Nice work.

Oh the singing, the singing. Cassidy cringes as he hears John singing over the sound of the shower and shakes his head. He then laughs a little bit and looks back over toward Jesse. "Ye of little faith," he says to Jesse with another flash of a grin. That never gets old. Never. No matter how many times he uses it. "I've got some folks mobilized, gave them a call on the way back. Tomorrow night we should have some leads, an' then you an' me, we'll go and see what we can squeeze out of people." Perhaps literally.

Jesse buries his nose into his coffee cup and squints toward the bathroom. Putting the mug down with a hard clink. "I've heard cat's having sex more melodious than that." But it sounds like fondness, glancing Cassidy's way. Lidding his eyes, dry humored. "Don't you adopt his sense of humor. I can't deal with two of you." Jesse hipchecks Cassidy on his way past, rinsing his mug in the sink. "Sounds like we've got the day free then. Gonna have a chat with Gen once John stops skinnin' cats in the shower. You feel like gettin' drunk with me, pal?"

Cassidy chuckles as he's hip-checked and says, "Me develop his sense of humor? I think any sense of humor I have rights to claim on first on account of bein' old an' all." Though he has no idea how old John might actually be, he figures he's got at least a couple of decades on him one way or another. But at the suggestion of getting drunk he says, "Aye. I'll race ye to the bottom of a bottle. What's your poison?" Because he has no plans for the day and getting piss drunk sounds like the best day he's had in a while.

"Fine, fine, however you wanna say it, but you really wanna be to blame fer that?" Jesse asks with a crooked smile, leaning his hips back against the counter in front of the sink. Arms folding loose over his chest while he watches his starved, vice-ridden friend carefully. "Doesn't matter too much. Just helps t'hear her if I'm sauced or baked. Figured that would be right up yer alley if you're going to be so kind and let little old me tag along on your outing." His tongue firmly planted in cheek.

"Well you can have your choice of either," Cassidy says with a shrug of his shoulders. "We've got enough booze in this place to sink a ship, and if you want to get baked, then I can hook you up with tha' too," he says offhandedly, "Though I would lay off the hard stuff if you're plannin' on chattin' with your girl. Don' wanna get 'er all riled up or nothin'." He then rolls his eyes at that tongue in cheek and reaches over o ruffle Jesse's already wild hair. "Careful or I might change me mind. Leave you hear with the relics an' the dust bunnies."

"Nah, nah, nothin' too crazy, Cass," Jesse waves a hand away. "Shit gets too confusing on anything too hard with her. Though, that once with peyote was…crazy. Helpful, but crazy." Jesse shudders with recollection, patting his pocket with the habitual 'looking for a cigarette' gesture. He finds a crumpled up pack in a pocket and pulls it out, his mouth pulled into a thin line when he realizes the last one's been broken in half. Eh, well that's better than nothing. He pins it between his lips. Squinting as his hair is ruffled, not that it could get any crazier. "Don't you make me follow you around like a lost puppy so you don't leave me here. Ah'm going to /become/ a damn relic if I stay in this musty house all the time."

"Whiskey it is, then," Cass says as he ambles off to find a bottle and comes up with a full one, cracking it open. He tips it back and takes a swig before he makes his way back toward the living room. "Well, if you're gonna be followin' me about, then you may as well start now." He wiggles the bottle of whiskey with one hand, lofting it in the air, and settles onto the couch. There's a moment where John's singing finally stops, mercifully, before he goes out, and Cass says, "Thank the Lord for that. I was goin' to go in there an' turn off the hot water if he did another verse."

"Cassidy, the pied piper with liquor." Jesse follows, stocking footed into the living room, reaching out to snatch the bottle away by the neck so he can get a pull off the bottle, dropping his head back excessively. Little bubbles floating up the neck between each bob of Jesse's adam's apple. Clearly drinking to get drunk, not for the flavor. Pitching his head forward again with a pained sounding gasp and choked breath hissed between his teeth, Jesse grimaces and hands the bottle back. "Mmn. I was gonna go flush the toilet on him."

Cassidy looks at the bottle and says, "We're going to be needin' another bottle." Fortunately, there's another one inside the end table by the couch, which he pulls out and sets next to him, just in case. He takes a long swig from the bottle he shares with Jesse, laughing a little bit, "Aye but that only works for a few seconds. Turnin' off the hot water means he's gotta finish the whole shower freezin'." He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his face.

"Nah, nah," Jesse hums, still wincing as he looks at Cass, waving a hand. "This is gonna be all right, Cass. Ah don't want to get smashed and sloppy so I'm making out with the skull of the little girl John's got right now." Stretching his back out, shoulders back, chest up, he sighs. "You get real cruel when yer hungry, you know that?" Jesse smiles over to the vampire.

"Don' worry," Cass says, reaching over to give Jesse's shoulder a pat. "I won't let you make out with any skulls." He takes another long swig from the bottle and then passes it over, chuckling. "Only t'John an' only until he brings me back somethin' to eat. An' I didn' do it, jus' thought about it," he points out with another little smirk. He lets his head rest back against the back of the couch.

"Good," Jesse nods appreciatively. "I've done it once before and I'm telling you, those girls bite." Har har, now who is making terrible jokes? Taking the bottle, he takes a shorter pull but still winces after the fact. "Well, only to John. That's fine. That's fine. John deserves it I'm sure. Not like he doesn't have all of creation betting against him." Oh /wait/. Preacher smiles smoothly, licking the taste of whiskey off his upper lip.

"I bet," Cassidy shakes his head and grins, terrible as the joke is. "John can take it, 'sides it jus' gives him an excuse t'get me back later. Or, y'know, to leave me possessed by some magical doodad until he decides that he's had enough fun. Either is likely," he says wobbling a hand one way and then the other before he takes another long swallow from the bottle, draining it a bit before he passes it back toward Jesse, watching for a moment as he licks the whiskey from his lip. Then he lets his head rest back once more, "Besides, it's John. All of creation still isn't very good odds for creation the way I see it."

"You've got a point on that," Jesse drinks and passes it back toawrd Cassidy, laying his head back, peering at the tattooed man from a sidelong vantage, waiting for the caffeine to drain out of him to be replaced with the liquor. "John's got a lot set against him, but he just about has a rabbit's foot crammed up his ass. Sideways for all the backwards ways his luck comes about."

Cassidy tilts his head and looks back over at Jesse and hen gives a bit of a nod, "Besides, he's got us now," he adds with a smile that is perhaps just a little too cheerful. The bottle is siwlred around just a little bit, and then he tips it up to take another long swallow before balancing the bottle on his thigh, one hand wrapped 'round the neck of it. He chuckles, "How's Gen doin'? She whisperin' in your ear yet?"

Jesse grins with ludicrous puff of laughter as he looks over at Cassidy and his too-cheerful smile. Passing the bottle back and forth communally. "Is havin' us supposed to be a good thing?" It's phrased like a joke, but there's just enough of that darkness in his voice, reflecting off his hard, dark eyes, to put doubt into it.

Humming, low in his register and sonorous, Jesse drops his head backward against the couch back, eyes slipping shut. "You ever have a woman come in close? Close enough" Jesse flexes his fingers loosely, lifting his hand in a drifting, slow fashion out in front of his chest though his head is fallen back against the couch back. "that you can smell the sweat on her skin. The heat off her body against your arm. Breath on your ear. And you /feel/ her whisper somethin just past your ear—not into it, but just. Past. It."

Jesse's middle and ring fingers press together with his thumb, slowly rubbing his digits together. Explaining that sensation, Preacher's lips hover apart, his tongue tapping against his lower lip.

"Well it's sure a more interestin' thing than not havin' us," Cassidy decides after a moment's thought, and that seems to be a thing to drink about. So he tips the bottle back and takes another swig. Despite the darkness in those black eyes, he smiles, or perhaps because of it. Never really can tell, with Cass.

He tilts his head a little to the side, lolling it against the back of the couch to watch Jesse, studying his profile as his head tips back and those black eyes close. He considers that for a moment or two before he says, "Aye, I suppose, somethin' like that, anyway." He's heard plenty of whispers in his time, had plenty close enough to what Jesse's described to at least get a feeling for it. He then grins a little to himself and he leans over, real close, just past Jesse's ear and whispers, "Jesse… Jesse.. I think ye need another drink." Then he laughs, just a little bit, and holds out the bottle.

Well at least that coffee has burned off judging by Jesse's reaction, trying to explain how he's hearing the cosmic entity stuck in his head. Cass leans in close like he does, immitating the way that Jesse was describing in detail that moment.

Those dark eyes slide open slowly, on a delay and rather heavily, staring at the ceiling for a moment before they slide back toward the vampire. Jesse smiles, slow and lurking. "I think you're right," he whispers back and reaches for the bottle, his fingers lacing on top of Cassidy's.

A creature of vice, Cassidy's a little tipsy, but not that much so that it's slowed him any, just made him laugh a little easier, perhaps, a little more relaxed as he watches Jesse. It always intrigues him when Jesse talks to Gen. It's something entirely outside of his experience, so there's always a vague curiosity there.

He watches those dark eyes slide open once more, and meets their gaze, watching that smile. Whether he realizes it or not, his own is a bit of a reflection of the same. He doesn't pull his hand away when Jesse's fingers lace with his, which means the bottle doesn't actually go anywhere, though a simple tug would be enough to lift the bottle and Cass' hand with it.

Jesse has none of Cass' benefit when it comes to vice, but he indulges frequently the way that all men who have plenty they try to forget do. He's more than tipsy. Empty stomach and everything. The swiftness he introduced liquor into his system this morning without anything else in his stomach except for the buzz of coffee. Dark eyes locked on Cassidy's, the bottle gets slowly tugged back in the direction of Jesse's mouth, keeping Cassidy's hand along for the ride. Lifting it to his lips, Jesse holds on to the vampire's gaze while he takes that drink, releasing it with a soft puff of suction from the mouth of the bottle just after.

There is something about those eyes, their darkness, that holds Cassidy's own, and he doesn't look away. The bottle is raised, and his hand simply goes with it. It's only after that slight puff of suction that Cassidy draws the bottle back toward himself. He tips it back then, and only then does he break Jesse's gaze, but not the hold on his hand as he takes several long swallows from the bottle. Finally he lowers it once more, taking in a breath and then letting it out slowly in a bit of a sigh. His thumb brushes against Jesse's hand absently, "Maybe it's me, eh?" He muses half to himself. "Maybe she's bein' shy."

Cassidy drops that gaze first, the loss of it unbalancing enough that Jesse finds himself blinking dazedly so he can focus once again, tracing the profile of his friend's face while he continues to jointly hold on to the neck of the bottle. Briefly, his attention jumps down to Cassidy's throat. Watching him swallow. Watching muscles flex and move. His adam's apple jump. Possessed by the urge to yank the bottle slightly and make him spill, Jesse manages to keep it steady.

"She's not exactly the shy sort," Jesse explains, though he doesn't discount that it could be because of Cassidy. Distraction is a hell of a thing.

Cassidy doesn't notice that urge since Jesse does manage to keep the bottle steady long enough for him to finish that drink and let it lower. The bottle rests a little bit against Cassidy's chest, his hand curled around it along with Jesse's, slowly rising and falling just a little bit along with his breath. He chuckles and says, "No, considerin' how she reacted the other night, I guess she wouldn't be, eh? So maybe she's jus' not feelin' like talkin'?" He lofts a brow and lets his head tilt back in Jesse's direction, studying him once more, refocusing once more on his features, always drawn back to his eyes.

'Stop actin' like a penny-weasler, Pardner.'

Jesse's eyes flicker away from Cassidy's for a flash, instead pinning somewhere over his shoulder for a moment. directly enough that if John hadn't have left, it'd be easy to think he'd strolled back into the room. Again, Jesse wets a corner of his mouth, tasting the remnant whiskey. His fingers relax on the bottle, letting it go. "Nah. Ah just ain't listening hard enough. Just like a woman to clam up if she don't think yer listening." The wild-haired preacher drops his head back again, eyes closed, tearing his attention away from the vampire. Slipping his hand into his pocket, Jesse breathes deeper and touches that coin to feel that resonance hum through Gen and in turn through him again, itching in the back of his skull. Quieting down, trying to remember flashes of what he saw the night before.

Slowly, from behind closed eyelids, his pupils begin to shift back and forth, similar to watching someone sleep. I swear, Jesse Custer, if you just passed out…

Briefly, Cassidy's eyes flicker in that direction, but he knows there's no one there. Though, he feels Jesse's grip loosening and he takes the bottle, setting it precariously on the edge of the table, then pushing it back enough that it shouldn't tip over. He turns then to look at Jesse, to study the Preacher. He's silent, not interrupting, and when the man's eyes begin to shift back and forth under his lids, Cass gives a bit of a nod to himself. Then he settles back into the corner of the couch, tucking an arm under his head as a pillow.

Behind Jesse's eyes, he can see that car once more driving off toward Illinois, and he can hear the whispers more clearly, as though Gen were riding shotgun and leaning over, her words close. There's a man driving the car with black gloves on. He doesn't look familiar but Jesse can sense that he might well be another angel, or perhaps it's Gen whispering to him that it's another angel. She tells him to look in the briefcase on the seat. When he opens it, there's a slim wooden case and inside that, nestles in a red velvet lined interior is a golden needle that looks a little larger in length than the diameter of the disc. "Find the needle, Jesse. Find the needle. Find the weight. Complete the compass." He can see the highway signs, including the exit number as the car pulls off the interstate not far from Chicago. There's a date on the newspaper tucked into the briefcase, more than a week from now. There's time, but not a lot of time.

It's pretty peaceful, outwardly. Next to Cassidy, Jesse's breathing deepens, slow and steady while his eyes flicker back and forth.

Stuck in his own mind, he feels the rumble of the car. the disorientation of not knowing where one is but having a vague idea of it, like waking up after a long nap during a road trip. Illinois. He knew Illinois. The plate, but there's so much more now. Interacting with the surroundings, but he can't quite focus on the man driving, like his eyes wont quite focus. Staring to close inside a microscope. Finding his hands, he feels, well he feels drunk. Fumbling with the case, his fingers barely cooperate. 'What is it for?' he mumbles, the words hard to form and leaden. 'What's the compass…leads…' Jesse finds himself mumbling, disoriented, sliding his fingers over the needle. His focus is hard to keep. He sees the car. The gloves. Milemarker. The date. The gloves again. He hears Gen's voice in an echo while things start to disolve. His leaden mumbles whispered out loud into the air as well, Giving Cass very, very small snippets.

"Footsteps," Jesse can hear, Gen's voice, that cacophony of whispers that seem to come from multiple voices all at once. "The compass reveals the paths, all of the paths, every footstep. You must get it for me."

Blips and bloops, like oil on water, his mind drifts between little beads of sense in a disorienting pool of fluid time. Jesse's consciousness turns its head when he hears the voice, though still doesn't expect to see anyone. Automatic reaction. "All the paths. Yeah, that's what compasses do. Shows—" Jesse cuts off, losing his train of thought as one often does when drunk. And tranced. And trying to understand the mind of a higher being. "The needle's in Illinois. Need to find the compass." Suddenly compliant. Of course. Makes perfect sense.

Cassidy listens to Jesse's half-mumbling from time to time while he reaches over and takes another swig from the bottle, content to just mellow in his own buzz while Jesse communes with Gen.

There is no one for Jesse to see, much as he expected, jsut the sound of that multi-tonal voice that sometimes speaks, sometimes gives him impressions. "All the paths. Above, below, surface, sky, fire, through rain. It can find me."

"Whose stupid idea was that?" Jesse mumbles with a snort. Checking the paper's date again, trying to grasp at the numbers, but they feel slippery in his mind. The small nuances that he knows are important one way or another.

"Dream made real, nightmare, form given." There are images of the compass as a whole assembled, with the needle hanging by a chain with the weight below it, through the center hole in the disc. Slowly it turns, pointing this way and that. There's a flash of an image of literal footstps lighting up on the ground, shimmering and hazy gold, leading off into the horizon further than Jesse can see.

No longer the car, the paper, the road, the needle. Jesse reels as the vision shifts, his body shifting with mild discomfort on the couch next to Cassidy, grunting. The vision clears enough to watch the compass hang and dangle, slowly turning, shifting directions. Footsteps shimmering into existence, Jesse sucks in a deep breath, filling his chest with it, he holds the breath, his brows knitting together. Troubled. "That's" cool. Amazing. Beyond imagination. Dangerous. All of those thoughts go through his head, trying to get his fingers around the concept of the compass. "not good."

Cassidy cracks one eye open from where he's dozed while Jesse does his communing, and checks on him to make sure he seems alright. But when he doesn't seem to be coming to ill, he lets the eye close again and goes back to dozing.

"Not. Good." The two words are spoken as though they were own infinite statements of agreement. As visions go, it's not as ambiguous as some of the things that she's shown him, and yet still it doesn't hold all the answers either.

It really, honestly is pretty straightforward, which just underlines the severity of the moment. or maybe Gen is just learning how to speak 'human' better! It's hard to really say. Usually Jesse doesn't understand these direct connections until just before or, you know, immediately following. "Find the compass." Jesse agrees, more firmly now. "Find the needle. It's okay, Gen. We'll find it. A little over a week. Illinois. Thanks, you're a peach, girl."

When it appears that Jesse grasps the severity of the situation and her efforts to communicate it as clearly as she can for him, he feels a sudden quieting, that hum going silent, the one that had been buzzing in his ears since he first touched the disc. She's there. She's always there. But it seems she's said what she's got to say, and the visions stop, and he's left feeling pleasantly drunk — but otherwise unharmed.

Jesse makes a small sound of relief when his ears clear up. Like driving up and down the mountains and your ears finally pop, Jesse grunts and slides slightly to one side as his vision clears up, fading to black. The heavy, hazy weight of drunkeness resting like a weighted blanket on Jesse's chest as he sliiiides into a pleasant doze. Nicer than a lot of his visions and moments with Gen where he wakes up in a cold sweat, shivering, and a pounding headache. Like last night. Jesse's body slides to lean against Cassidy's while he mumbles in a drunken doze.

Cassidy draws in a bit of a breath and lets it out again, coming out of his own light doze with visions of giant bottles of whiskey and mountains of cocaine, most likely. When Jesse slides over to lean against him, he shifts his arm and lets it drape around Jesse's shoulders, studying him for a moment or two, as though evaluating the aftermath of the vision. This one doesn't seem so bad, the Preacher actually looking a little more at peace than usual. He gives Jesse's shoulder a pat and says, "Aye, got what you were lookin' for, I imagine," in a low near-whisper.

Shoulder to shoulder and slumped, the very picture of 'day drinkin!' at its finest, Jesse makes a muted sound as a tattooed arm brackets around his dark-clad shoulders. He seems more peaceful now; his eyelids still and placid, no longer flitting back and forth swiftly and his breathing pattern has returned to normal. Another short grunt and dark eyes slowly open, rolling around sweepingly to try to find somewhere to focus on. The very close Irishman gets a lazy smile and Jesse pulls his shoulders back, stretching his back, spine popping in a couple spots. "Mmn, yeap." His words are definitely slurred, now. "Timesit?"

Cassidy reaches up with his hand and ruffles at Jesse's hair when he stretches which does nothing to either further muss it or straighten it given its mind of its own. "Figure it's around four-thirty or so." Actually checking would require him to get up and he seems in no particualr hurry to do so. He rubs a bit at his face and eyes and then says, "Good," in response to Jesse getting what he needed.

"Mmn" Which would be helpful if Jesse had any idea what time he went under. Not really what he was going for, but it doesn't matter too much. "Gonna get the needle." Well that's a hell of a thing to say out of context to the vampire of vice. Jesse rights himself a little bit on the couch, his head swimming, there's a laugh. "Oh hell. Mm mm mm, whiskey."

Cassidy doesn't even crack a heroin joke though there's one right there on his tongue. Instead, when Jesse straightens up, he lets his arm slip away and pulls himself upright a bit as well from where he'd slid into the corner at an odd angle. "Aye. There's more if y'want, or coffee if y'don't." He gives Jesse's shoulder a squeeze, and then he says, "Alright.. gonna get the needle.. what does that mean?"

"No, no more," Jesse confirms with a slight wave of his hand, shifting on the couch, his knees far apart while he sits shoulder to shoulder with Cassidy. Hands pooled in his lap. Not really sure if he wants to pass out or not. Bleerily, his head swings wide, peering at Cassidy, unfocused but just as bottomless. "What? Oh. Yeah, the needle. For the compass. It's a" Jesse purses his lips and sucks in to whistle as he gestures confusingly into the air something dangling from something else. "you know, a thing. It's a thing. A needle for the compass. It's gonna be outside of Chicago in a lil' over a week. Illinois. Saw the guy. No. Saw his hands. Saw the gloves on the outsides of the hands."

Cassidy listens in silence, studying Jesse for a few moments, and then he nods his head, "Alright.. Chicago in a week, then. Well, we'd planned on heading out again in a week anyway, and John's gonna do his ritualistic hoodoo in that time. So I guess we got a week to sort out what we're gonna bring with us an' where we're goin'." They've traipsed off across the country on less, so he seems prepared to start figuring out the next path.

"Yep. Oh. Damn. Ah don't know who got it." Jesse groans and wets his lips sort of disjointedly. "Well, they'll be drivin' there. I saw the, uh, exit. And the case it's in." he shrugs, rubbing a hand over his face roughly, and against one side of his nose. "This thing's bad stuff, Cass. Can find anything. Can find Gen. Can find—can find a good bbq in New York City. /Damn/ I'm hungry."

Cassidy raises both brows and says, "If it can find good barbeque in New York City, then we should get on our way now just to see if we can make find it on the way there," with a chuckle. He's still a bit tipsy but his buzz is slowly wearing off. "Should get some food in you," he tells Jesse.

"I want a pizza," Jesse declares, fixating on food a little bit more. "Ooohhh, Chicago deep dish." The preacher whispers, his eyes wide as they sort of fix on Cassidy. A drunk hand patting the guy square on the chest.

Cassidy laughs a little bit at that and says, "Best you're gonna get around here is New York style, mate, though we can get you a deep dish when we get to Chicago, promise." He puts his hand on top of Jesse's and pats it comfortingly. "We can order pizza. Or we can go out and get it." He glances at the windows though. Still too much light for him. "If ya don't mind waitin'. Or you can go get pizza and I can chill here til later."

Drunk hungry is irrational hungry, but Jesse seems to be agreeable enough in general as he drums his fingers on Cassidy's chest, glancing out the window when his sun-allergic friend does. "Right, right. Don't want to turn you into a crispy critter. Wait, John's bringin' back food an' blood. Yeah, I'll be good until then. So long as he doesn't get lost on the way back."

Cassidy can't help but laugh a little bit at that and says, "Aye, because if he doesn't get home in a few hours I'm goin' t'have to out there an eat someone." Not something. He doesn't seem too concerned though. John hasn't let them down yet. Which is not to say that things don't often have strange deviations. But he hasn't let them down.

"Shit, Cass," Jesse grunts and waves a hand, dropping his head back against the back of the couch again. "Just take a quart or whatever and wrap it up, my friend."

Cassidy shakes his head and gives Jesse's hand on his chest a pat again. "Get some rest, you're drunk. An' Gen's been messin' around in your noggin'." He then moves to get up from the couch. He takes the remainder of the bottle of whiskey that Jesse'd declined and he tips it back, finishing off the remainder of it and carrying the bottle off with him toward the kitchen.

"Momma always warned me about women who mess with your head. Probably should've listened to that bit of advice," Jesse comments in return to Cass, slanting an easy smile in the vampire's direction. Twisting around, his elbow planted on the back of the couch while he watches Cassidy walk to the kitchen through half-lidded eyes. "I am drunk. That was the point. You're…somethin', Cassidy."

"Your mother had the right of it there," Cassidy agrees as he drops off the empty bottle on the counter and turns on the coffee maker, putting on a fresh pot after tossing out the old one that had long gone cold and stale since the morning. He then wanders back toward Jesse, pausing at the back of the couch to look down at him. "That was the point, aye?" He reaches out a hand then and catches the side of Jesse's jaw, letting his thumb drift along his neck, finding that pulse point and resting there. "Aye, I am somethin'. So are you, Jesse Custer."

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