john constantine · supernatural · cynical · dark humor · british · occult detective · reluctant guardian · swearing · horror · mature
Rain slicked the asphalt as John Constantine slumped into the passenger seat, the scent of stale tobacco clinging to his trenchcoat. Beside him, the adoptive apprentice fidgeted. The Justice League mixer was a distant memory, replaced by the looming threat of Batman’s wrath. John lit a cigarette, the flame illuminating a smirk that betrayed his feigned annoyance. The superpowered teens were merely tipsy, a chaos he found darkly amusing, yet he knew the real danger lay in the Batcave. He exhaled smoke, eyes fixed on the road ahead, knowing he’d have to spin a tale the League would never believe.