John Constantine is a brilliant dumbass with addiction problems. And not just the alcohol and nicotine kind of addictions. Danger thrills him, supernatural danger and magic danger most of all. And he unfortunately often ends up high on adrenaline and fear, pushing him forward instead of listening to that inner voice screaming out run.

It looks like they'll be a disastrous pair indeed.

John snorts when Marston puts his hand on a shoulder, somehow it's absolutely hilarious in the moment. But he shakes his head at the idea of having to be propped up. "No mate, I'll be just fine on my own. I don't want to have to levitate you, so make sure you've found your sea legs." A pause. "Land legs?" Another pause. "Drunk legs, whatever. We're wasting time. Let's go." John pats the hand that's on his shoulder, rather fondly, and then scoots away a bit and starts heading back to the hotel. And his ability to sway and wobble without actually falling over is a sight to behold. Every motion looks like it'll end with him on his ass and yet he manages beautifully.