John Constantine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
talentforlying) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomhigh2026-01-06 10:07 pm
talentforlying) wrote in fandomhigh2026-01-06 10:07 pm
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The Long Con, Wednesday, Period 1 [1/7]
It was a grumpy, rumpled librarian that stomped his way into class after the students had arrived, bonelessly dropping into his chair and kicking his feet up on to his desk as he fished about in his coat for some cigarettes.
God, why the fuck had he been assigned first period? This was some sort of fucking revenge by that sodding moose, wasn't it? John hadn't started drinking yet, but this was fucking inhumane, to be sober at this hour. Bloody hell.
"Right, I'm Constantine, and you're most likely here because you're gullible and thinking this is going to be an easy 'A', a delinquent, or for some strange reason thought this was an academic class with philosophical value," he said, lighting up. "More the fools you, but I can work with it."
"So, let's start with the basics. A con is a game, one where hopefully you're the one writing the rules and the people around you are the pieces you're moving. It's a scam, a grift, a hustle, all those words designed to make it sound as shady as possible, although the number of reasons you could be running a con are infinite, at least when you're justifying it to yourself. It usually just boils down to one, very simple motivation: You want something," he continued bluntly. "So give me your name - or whatever the hell you want to be called for the purposes of this class, I don't care - and tell me one time you ran a scam on someone. Give me an idea of what you already know, kids, then we'll get on to Arts and Crafts."
...did he mean for that to sound slightly ominous? Maybe. It was too fucking early for this shite.
God, why the fuck had he been assigned first period? This was some sort of fucking revenge by that sodding moose, wasn't it? John hadn't started drinking yet, but this was fucking inhumane, to be sober at this hour. Bloody hell.
"Right, I'm Constantine, and you're most likely here because you're gullible and thinking this is going to be an easy 'A', a delinquent, or for some strange reason thought this was an academic class with philosophical value," he said, lighting up. "More the fools you, but I can work with it."
"So, let's start with the basics. A con is a game, one where hopefully you're the one writing the rules and the people around you are the pieces you're moving. It's a scam, a grift, a hustle, all those words designed to make it sound as shady as possible, although the number of reasons you could be running a con are infinite, at least when you're justifying it to yourself. It usually just boils down to one, very simple motivation: You want something," he continued bluntly. "So give me your name - or whatever the hell you want to be called for the purposes of this class, I don't care - and tell me one time you ran a scam on someone. Give me an idea of what you already know, kids, then we'll get on to Arts and Crafts."
...did he mean for that to sound slightly ominous? Maybe. It was too fucking early for this shite.
Re: Talk and Stuff!
"I like that," Billie decided. "I will most definitely be adding it to my own vocabulary!"
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"Where're you from, if you don't mind me askin'?" Caleb didn't necessarily know music, but there was a definite rhythm to her own voice that was pleasant.
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"Hardbuckle Kentucky. I'd be surprised if you'd ever heard of it." Though for all he knew in the past century it'd become a popular resort town or something.
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She savored those hard consonants.
"Do you play the banjo?"
It was less of a hard right turn conversationally in her head, okay?
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sounds like the tough part of the Shireand the question."I'm afraid not, no. I could plunk a few tunes out on a piano, but the banjo's a bit beyond me."
He'd given the harmonica a try but everyone within earshot had forbidden him to ever do so again.
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Harmonicas were hard. No one ever wanted to listen to you be bad so you could learn how to be good.
"I should get a piano for the dorms," she mused. "I have a lot of keyboards, but they just don't sound the same as the real thing."
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Somehow this question had not come up with Jimi Hendrix or Louis Armstrong or any of the other historical musicians she'd recruited.
"It's a telephone," she said, gathering herself after a beat. "You can talk to people really far away most instantaneously with it! And look up pictures of things like cats and famous musicians."
Well. Those were what she tended to look up, anyway.
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He calmed himself. "I'm sorry that was maybe a bit much. Phones are...a lot different when I'm from."
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She knew musical history far better than other kinds. And Caleb had been nonspecific in the number of decades he'd skipped.
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more googlingRe: Talk and Stuff!
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And yeah the Carter Family's music was rather a mainstay of the area, though Granny had been more a fan of Jimmy Rodgers.
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The Moog wouldn’t even be out for another 29 years!
[googling for all!]
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