fandomhigh | BWI Airport Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

Celia had had a trying morning, thus far.

She'd boarded a train in New York at the crack of dawn with a large trunk that she was pretending to struggle to carry. Hector had given her a cursory pat on the top of her hat and a tug to one stray curl, accompanied by a stern look that Celia knew meant Don't make me regret this. She'd fallen asleep on the train, and the conductor had awoken her...here. She'd not expected Maryland to be quite so much...brighter, or louder or confusing -- and in fact, Celia had been to Baltimore before, once, and she was very sure that this was unsettlingly different. She'd stumbled off the train, been ushered through a security checkpoint filled with people dressed strangely and giving her even stranger looks and now she was...here.

If not for the glittering sign bearing the name 'Fandom High,' she'd think she was in the wrong place.

Celia slumped gratefully into a chair, dropping her trunk on the floor beside her, and let out a sigh. Then she immediately straightened up. It wouldn't do to have her new classmates think her a lazy slob at first meeting.

[YAY NEWBIE SHUTTLE.]

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John responded by cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling. Loudly. In case someone did not understand telepathy. "OI! Any of you lot that are off to school, move your arses to the van. It's time to go inspect the asylum!"

It was possible that Constantine sounded entirely too cheerful about this.

"All aboard the shuttle driven by two mad Brits without American permits!"

//At this rate, you'll scare them all off, mate,// Jono noted, glancing sidelong at Constantine, clearly amused. //Tell me, have you even got a permit at all?//

Jono didn't. His had expired years ago.

"I got ten on me!" John retorted indignantly. "Er, one might be in my name?" Or, you know, an actual permit and not one he'd made himself.

Because Constantine was a terrible human being, and when he taught, he told his students to get fakes.

"I know how to drive American-style, swear on me mum."

//And I can probably fake it about as well,// Jono decided, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. //Didn't run us into anything on th'way here, at least.//

Well. There had been a curb. But it was a big vehicle. It had survived.

"That kerb might not agree," he pointed out wryly. "But nothing fell off, so we'll call it a win, yeah?"

//I'm going to consider it a win right up until Skywalker notices something amiss and flays us both alive.//

So, yeah. Totally a win.

//Anyhow, it was only th'once.//

"He's the bloke with the--" John made a vague gesture around his head that somehow somewhat resembled Anakin's hair. "-- an' the glower, yeah? Well, he tries to flay me, I'm hidin' behind Lady Zoe. She can take 'em, AND they both let us off-campus with the keys."

//True enough,// Jono replied, his voice carrying something reminiscent of a chuckle as he nodded his agreement. //Really, they've got nobody but themselves to blame.//

Right?

Right!

Constantine sure as hell was not a designated adult! Blame the school board for hiring him! ...Or...whoever had actually hired him. He was unsure about that. It was probably a dread elder god, with his luck.

"'S long as we turn up with four tires, the appropriate number of kids, and haven't painted the Union Jack on the hood, I think we're good," he decided.

//See, now there's a shame,// Jono replied, turning sad eyes toward Constantine. Truly sincere ones. Honest. //Because I have the paint all set aside and everything...//

Go on, Constantine. Tell him it was a bad idea.

Constantine tapped his fingers against his leg for a moment in thought. Then: "...The roof?"

No one was gonna be able to see it!

//... I'm game for it if you are.//

He couldn't fly anymore, but so help him, he'd do this all the same.

"You know, I wouldn't yell that too loudly when there are cops around," Joker pointed out. "Just sayin'. If we get stuck here, I'm gonna be so pissed."

"Airport cops," John replied dismissively with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry, the day I can't talk my way around a bunch of under-paid, under-trained, egotistical lackeys is the day after you nailed the coffin shut on me."

"B'sides, they generally just want us out of here fast as possible, before the norms start staring or asking uncomfortable questions. The weirder we are, the more inclined they are to look the other way just to make us leave."

"So you're calling us a bunch of freaks?!" Joker asked, getting a little angry. "You think it's okay that we make them uncomfortable and they want us to go away?!"

BWI Airport Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

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