now we get a rude and a reckless

[inconstantly]

WHO? John Constantine and Dorian Pavus
WHAT? WINE HEIST!!!
WHEN? some vague time between the brag parties and arena stuff
ANYTHING ELSE? Decisions fueled by alcohol to get more alcohol. What could possibly go wrong?

[The idea had come from one of the many nights of recovering from the daily posturing. Sure, John could play the game and play it well, but the proper type wasn't who he was in the slightest. Wouldn't it be nice, he'd mused aloud idly, if most nights could be like the current one: enjoying company at his leisure, taking to the wine as if there were no need for rations.

That's when it struck. With a much larger supply, rations wouldn't hold nearly as much weight. So the solution was simple, restock their storage spaces with as much alcohol possible. While at the House Jankeh party John had been careful to keep his ears open for any chatter that might be useful. One of the select details he'd overheard involved an Aranean with an extensive cellar. Simply breaking to steal the wine wouldn't do. They'd be sniffed out, caught instantly. But if the spiders were otherwise distracted even two magic types might be able to slip in and out undetected.

Thankfully the creatures always seem to be hosting parties of some sort, which means an open door, swifter access through hallways, but far more beings to avoid. The idea was impulsive on John's part, and he was almost surprised that Dorian had agreed to it. Yet here they both stand, outside the Aranean's residence in the shadows of a side wall.]

You ready to do this, mate? [John grins with excitement, giving Dorian a swat on the side of his arm.] If you want to turn around now you can still say no. [It would be the wrong answer, but he could.]

Comments

[inconstantly]

My observations are incredibly keen. I've also noticed that your walk has changed now that we've been successful. A smug saunter, the kind you adopt when I meet you in the evenings. Though I can't fault you for either.

[John gives a slight hum at the kiss to his thumb before moving his hand to trace the other side of he mustache. Better not to leave a job half finished.

With a deft hand John plucks the wine from Dorian's grasp, taking his own long swig. When he finishes he holds the bottle in a circular grip between thumb and forefinger, resting his hand and the side of the bottle by extension on Dorian's hip.]

I do have more observations I could share, but it's only prudent that you have a go.