Clothed in our grief

Chapter twenty six

Lea was looking at her watch and seeing as it was almost close to three in the morning. Sure, she thought she'd be here by four or three. But two:fifty-four am works just fine. Time wise, this is true. But when it comes down to being awake for every passing moment out of anticipation? It took forever. Gotham is a long while away, usually this trip would have taken so much more longer if it weren't for her being able to pull the strings in how she gets here. Mason really doesn't know much, and she feels as guilty as she can possibly be about that. It's not much, but it's something. If he were here with her, she can only imagine that explaining herself would have taken more extra time. Time she probably didn't have.

"Aren't you a little young to be looking for John Constantine?" The voice speaks back to her, eyeing her as if she's just been caught shoplifting. Lea keeps a straight face, as straight as she can manage. Hiding her shaking hands beneath the bar table, and resting them on her knees to try and keep them still.

"If that was the case I wouldn't have been able to get in here, would I?" She speaks, dropping the blank expression and smirking, raising a single black filled eyebrow as if she's the one asking the questions now. She came here to ask them, but it seems that things have turned. The closer she gets, the less confident about this all she becomes.

The Oblivion bar may be one place to go look for someone like John Constantine, or anybody who knows him. But Gotham has no Oblivion bar. There's several different occult based places in Gotham. Trouble is finding the one that Constantine's soiled by pressing his print in. And when Gotham is so shady to begin with, it's not exactly hard for someone who can look years older than who she really is to get into an age restricted place. Especially with a wad of cash.

Lea can almost hear Mason lecturing her. Sure, he may be the one who gets into the most trouble with his shenanigans. He'd probably use his one phone call while being arrested to order pizza. But Lea? She's a different kind of trouble. Someone who needs to be kept in check, not like Mason. Mason can control himself easily. He has his own switch. But it's Lea who someone needs to keep watch over.

"He did it all, to spare me from the awful things in life that comes. And he cries, and cries." The woman on the short dim lit stage sings. fingers plucking gracefully at the even more graceful looking string piece in her arms as she's sitting down. A cream colored acoustic guitar, something that looks so old as if it's been passed down from one great musician to another. Nimble dark skinned fingers that look like they've had years of practice add the acoustics to not just her voice, but they spread across the room and make the mood seem a little lighter. Aside from the dark theme of the words to the song she's singing.

"He holds my body in his arms, he didn't mean to do no harm. And he holds, me tight," She pauses for a breath, luscious lips with a purple like red lipstick that seems to have a velvet like appearance part for a mere second.

"I know.. he knows, that he's killing me for mercy. And here I go, oh." Her voice seems to be the only thing LEa can focus on at the moment, it's all a new thing for her. She's not even seventeen, and she's in a bar talking to someone about your liar asshole dad. All because she's worried about you, to an intense amount that it's slowly bubbling over the edge like a shaken bottle of soda. Or in this case, the foam of beer veering over the edge of a glass cup.

"Five, four, three, two, one." Her voice is shaking while she sings, as if the last notes she just rang throughout the building aren't the real reason. Notes that are suppose to sound sour the moment you hear them, but when you stop and let her finish how it goes? It sounds like an actual angel howling through the room. Almost like a cry of help, really. From going to such a powerful vibrato then to such a silent mumble into the mic, she nears finishing the song.