<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/W3qqpen.jpg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>Giovanni Zatara<br/>(Optional)<strong>WEARING:</strong>A tasteful black three-piece suit<br/><strong>DAY:</strong>Aug 21 2020<br/><strong>TIME:</strong>After the Drama of the Secret Sanctuary Gathering<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>Some dreary Metropolis alley<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong>Parting<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>Zachary<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Giovanni returned Zachary's embrace. It took a few seconds for the old man to recover from the surprise, but when the embrace was returned it was equally warm and as firm as it could be. The magician nodded when Zachary announced that he would do things his own way, and he smiled softly. Perhaps a little sadly.<br/><br/>"Goodbye, nephew." Giovanni answered and did not try to stop Zachary, true to his word. Giovanni stood before the chair disappeared, and he watched Zachary walk away. When the young magician was out of sight, Giovanni heard the sound of a match being struck, followed a sharp inhalation of breath. The scent of cheap tobacco filled the air, and Giovanni felt the warm feelings that Zachary's hug had elicited melt away to be replaced by annoyance. Still, the old magician stiffened his back and straightened his shoulders, mustering his dignity.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/Xwze2ZQ.png)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>John Constantine<br/>(Optional)<strong>WEARING:</strong>A trenchcoat, shirt, tie, slacks, loafers<br/><strong>DAY:</strong>Aug 21 2020<br/><strong>TIME:</strong>After the Zatara  family heart to heart<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>An alley in Metropolis<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong>Smoking a kipper, skipper<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>None<br/><br/><hr/><br/>"Well, old son, was it the Christmas miracle you hoped for?" Constantine asked, moving out of the shadows to stand beside the old magician. The blond man lazily blew smoke rings. He was met with silence, and so he took another slow drag. The man sighed.<br/><br/>"Well, go on. Needle me, tell me I was wrong, and you were right." Giovanni said with terse impatience. Constantine flicked some ash off the end of his cigarette, and shook his head.<br/><br/>"Maybe in a fortnight, squire - you're gutted enough and I don't have the heart for it right now." Constantine replied. He balanced the cigarette in his lips and pulled a flask out of his breast pocket. He retrieved the smoke from his lips and took the cap off of the flask, taking a quick nip and offering it to the old magician, who took it and took a small drink himself before passing it back.<br/><br/>"He'll be alright, won't he?" Giovanni asked. John played for time by taking a drag and exhaling through his nostrils.<br/><br/>"Be proper tosh to lie to a dying old man, mate. Let's go have a pint and take the piss out of whatever shite's on the pub tele, eh?" Constantine wound an arm around Giovanni's shoulder. "Maybe we'll be two jammy lads and find a place with some proper scrummy food. Lord knows we earned it."<br/><br/>"But-"<br/><br/>"Ah, let that wait, squire. Old Johnny'll see to it, one way or another." The blond man said but Giovanni did not find himself comforted. Still, he let himself be led away.<br/><br/>Giovanni Zatara and John Constantine did not find food that was proper scrummy, nor did they find a place that served beer warm as John insisted that God intended.