It's warm enough this evening in Washington D.C. that most people have come out without coats. Unfortunately it's also raining enough that most of those people are now very wet. And Fox Mulder is, for once, no exception to the rule. In shirtsleeves and now looking rather dishevelled, the FBI's Most Unpopular wanders out of a convenience store, having forgotten what he went in there for, and pauses to look up at the sky. In the distance, a low growl of thunder. You'd think it was impossible to smoke in the rain. You really think it would be. But see, that's what people make umbrellas for. It's really not to make sure you don't get wet, it's just specifically for smoking in the rain. Just ask one Pete Wisdom, making this point beautifully as he stands on the corner, waiting for the Metro. Chainsmoking, even; he flicks a butt into the gutter, then picks another out of his shirt pocket, and - uh - lights it with his finger. Ahem. Another door, this one across the street from the convenience store, swings open. It's one of those doors wedged between more prominent entrances that leads up a flight of stairs to somewhere anonymous, one of those doors that's easy to ignore unless you're looking for it. Through it dashes John Constantine, still slipping on his trenchcoat--he probably got kicked out in a hurry. He looks up at the cloudy sky for a moment in irritation, then starts across the street for the corner. He might've noticed Mulder, if there wasn't someone else for him to take note of. "Wisdom!" he calls, scrambling for the shelter of the umbrella and immediately taking advantage of it to light a cigarette. "'ello." No, he does not ask if Pete will share the umbrella. It's just assumed. Mulder says "You smoke too? Perfect.;)" Constantine says "Wisdom is a *lot* like Constantine. :)" Mulder makes sure to not be prejudiced. Too much. The street is scanned, a quick, habitual glance around. Most people have ducked inside out of the rain, so the smoker on the corner gets a brief frown. Mulder is with the Surgeon General on that one. Nothing else of interest, just John Constantine running across the - hey. The agent stands, hands in pockets, and watches the pair suspiciously for a second or two before wandering idly in their general direction. He was going that way in any case. honestly. Giving Constantine a dry look - get it? Dry? - Wisdom shakes his head. "'Lo. 'Kinell've *you* been? I was about to head back. Didn't you get my message?" He backs up a little, keeping the umbrella stationary (like he couldn't've just moved the umbrella) and flicks ash to the sidewalk, possibly a little early. And then he takes note of John's disheveled look. "Oh. Were you...you weren't..." A beat, and narrowed eyes. "Were you?" "I've been busy," Constantine protests mildly. "There's something bloody huge behind all this and I have to be careful not to get too involved." And see, for once he actually intends to do just that, since this just isn't his sort of thing. Usually. And intentions are so very unpredictable. "You've found what you wanted, then? Or as much as you could?" He blinks at the question, perfectly innocent. "What? I just got thrown out of there in a hurry." Then he espies something, or rather someone, who takes him away from that frying pan line of conversation and into a fire one. "Pete," he says quietly, in very very casual tones. "See that bloke over there?" His eyes trail to Mulder, and he nods just a tiny bit toward the agent. Without changing his tone--but even more quietly this time--he continues, "Seems one of his adopted beliefs is that he's got to interrogate me every time he sees me in this country. Death threats aren't required, but he does seem to prefer them." His expression doesn't change, either. Pete Wisdom giggles a lot. Curse this not-quite-being-able-to-overhear. Mulder notices John noticing him and draws to a stop a few feet away, expression neutral, hands in pockets. He doesn't look much like a Federal agent right now, he looks like somone who's had a long day at the office and is taking their time getting home. "Found out you were right, it's not what they'd originally assumed it was. Bastards still want me in, though; paranormal means -both- kinds," says Pete, irritated. He blows smoke out into the rain, then looks to where John's indicating, his expression interested. Then he grins - an easy grin, he's honestly entertained. "Sounds like a man with a bit of sense, mate. Besides, you've got death threats before, you ought to be used to 'em." Wisdom politely inclines his head toward Mulder by way of greeting. Constantine nods in brief acknowledgment. Of *course* he was right. He always knows what he's doing when it comes to finding things out. Well...almost always. Except when he completely messes things up and escapes horrific death by a hairbreadth. "I might stay around a bit, then, just to be sure. Unless he drives me out," he adds darkly, eyeing Mulder. "I dunno about the sense part. He's completely paranoid, and an FBI agent. And uh, the first time I met him I think I gave him a nervous breakdown." He pauses momentarily, then gives Wisdom a faintly rueful look. "I s'pose that was a mistake." His gaze is drawn back to Mulder, his expression going carefully blank. Okay, they're talking about me. Of course Mulder would assume that anyway, John's assessment being entirely accurate. "Who's this?" he asks of Constantine, not answering Pete's nod with more than a glance. He's in icy-voiced Hanging Around People He Doesn't Know Or Trust mode. FBI agent, huh? And entirely paranoid, apparently. And a nervous breakdown, caused by John. Absolutely bloody fantastic. "Pete Wisdom, W.H.O.," he interjects smoothly, dropping his cigarette and crushing it underfoot. He holds out his hand; even if Mulder can't be polite, -he- can. "And you are?" As much as he likes John, he doesn't expect him to be able to do introductions. Mulder says "The World Health Organization?:)" Constantine falls over giggling. Mulder says "If Mulder would know, explain that abbreviation.:)" Pete Wisdom grins. Weird Happenings Organization. Mulder says "Oh, good name.:)" Constantine just smiles at Mulder, albeit rather gingerly, and opts to let Pete do the introducing, saying only, "Friend of mine." There are no words more ominous coming from his mouth. He'd take a step back at this point, just to put distance between himself and Mulder, but that would mean stepping out into the rain. Damn. Oh joy, a friend of Constantine's. It's a good thing Scully isn't here, or Mulder would probably be being forcibly dragged away down the street by now. As it is, he eyes Pete's hand for longer than is strictly polite before taking it for a perfunctory handshake. "Fox Mulder, FBI." The hand goes right back in his pocket again. "Nowhere better to be, John?" Hm. Right. File that one away under 'paranoid', 'slightly crazy' and 'just plain rude'. But then, Pete can be rude, and often is - especially when he has to be somewhere he just doesn't want to be. And it's fairly obvious this Mulder doesn't want to be around John. But - if he doesn't like him, why not just avoid him? He graciously ignores the implicit Damoclean sword included in any statement of friendship from John, and hands the blond man his umbrella. He doesn't -really- need it, after all. "Listen - Agent Mulder? - we *were* having a conversation." He checks his watch. "And we haven't got a lot of time; the bus is late as it is. You're welcome to join us, but if you do, I'm going to have to ask that you refrain from needling John." Pete Wisdom is asking to get his head kicked in, I can -tell-. Mulder stares. Yes.:) Pete Wisdom also, by the by, began steaming when he stepped into the rain. Mulder isn't violent, actually. I'll just turn highly nasty and start Officially Investigating the hell out of you. Pete Wisdom says "The thing is, you can investigate all you like - I'm entirely official. And I *am* the only one here being even remotely professional. ;)" Mulder grins. Unless Scully's around, paranoia (and it's entirely justified) overtakes professionalism. Pete Wisdom flexes! Mulder says "I think that's the scariest thing about Mulder. His paranoia really *isn't an overreaction." Pete Wisdom says "It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you? :)" Mulder says "Exactly. And they are.:)" Constantine manages to keep a smile, or at least a bit of one. "Lots of better places to be. Wish I didn't need to be here instead." He doesn't quite manage to conceal his reaction to the way Pete talks to Mulder. Oh man. He casts a pained look at the other Englishman. Yeah, make it harder on us both, why don't you. "This isn't helping, mate, not at all," he warns, moving to try to get Wisdom under the umbrella again. Damn. He should've mentioned Mulder's obsession with the paranormal. "Agent Mulder is an X-File," he explains conversationally, as if it were merely an addition to the introduction. "He investigates paranormal events. *Thoroughly*." Come on, get the hint! Else we're in trouble. ...and why is this man steaming? Mulder utterly ignores Wisdom's tone, opting to stare at the man's shoulder, where the steam is most clearly seen. You're in trouble now. As soon as John says Mulder's - well, that he works in *that* department - Pete obligingly begins getting wet. Helpfully, the Metro appears around the corner, up the street, and starts to lumber toward the stop. Wisdom mentally sighs. His people and Mulder's people -really- ought to talk more. He's not the only 'posthuman' in his department, after all, and if this staring's the reaction he's getting, it doesn't say particularly good things about international communication. "Ah. Rather like the WHO, innit? Your branch." Branch is probably too generous a term, but hey. "Well, only half of 'his branch' even believes in the stuff they investigate," Constantine can't resist chiming in, less than helpfully. "That half being...him." Oh yeah, he's doing lots to make Mulder not want to deck him. But he figures Pete will protect him should the situation arise. He's so ungrateful. "It doesn't take majority opinion to make something true," says Mulder, rather sharply. "It just needs to be true." "Too right," says Wisdom somewhat offhandedly, watching the bus, trying not to be -too- annoyed he gave his umbrella away when he was gonna need it after all. Too late to complain. "Conjob - Doc Dremo's Taphouse? Isn't Kung Fu movie night, but last I heard they still had sushi. An' they've got Bass, I called ahead." He glances back at Mulder. "If you're amenable to a bit of an info tradeoff, you're still welcome to come with." He doesn't say what information, but - but. Constantine keeps a straight face. "You keep believing that," he encourages brightly, as internally, he marvels over Mulder's naivete. Or what he sees as Mulder's naivete, anyway. He looks back at Pete. "Sounds all right." Innerly, once again, his reaction is different. He's wincing at the invitation. Wisdom doesn't know just how much Mulder hates John, does he. On the other hand--Mulder's likely to know at least *something* about this. Tossing his cigarette end to the ground, Constantine sighs just a little and tells the agent dryly, "It looks like it might be about aliens. And, of course, conspiracies." Though naturally reluctant, Mulder has already decided he's going to go along. If only to put a crimp in Constantine's evening. "Oh, in that case, sign me up," is the sardonic response to talk of aliens and conspiracies. The man studied at Oxford, he can do dry sarcasm as well as the English. Bus is here. With a *look* toward Constantine - like, 'You catch more flies with honey' - Wisdom climbs up and swipes his day pass. He waits until the others've taken seats before he asks, "So are you at all familiar with the W.H.O., Agent Mulder?" Careful, careful. "Yeah, my pleasure," Constantine returns lightly as he gets on the bus. It may be noted that he selects a seat neither too far nor too close to Mulder. Hey, he can do catch flies with honey, so to speak, when he wants to. Which is, to be honest, almost never. Dropping with insolent casualness into a seat, Mulder leans an elbow and half-turns to keep an eye on the others. "I've heard things." It's amazing what the Gunmen can dig up. "There's hearing and there's hearing from reliable sources," replies Pete calmly, starting to dry off. "Have you got things you'd like to look into, or things you're fairly certain should pan out?" He leans back in his seat, against the window, arm up over the backrest. "And are you much for sushi, or have you someplace better to recommend?" Constantine stays silent, apparently staring blankly out of the window, paying no attention to what's going on around him. Of course that's not true, but yeah, *most* of his attention is focused on figuring out how he's going to fend Mulder off and still, well, *use* him well. "Sushi works for me." Mulder can be quite taciturn when he wants to be, watching Wisdom, the unknown quantity, with suspicion in the hazel eyes. "And my sources are reliable. What are you chasing at the moment?" Snapping his fingers idly a couple times, a nervous gesture, Wisdom's eyes trail to Constantine, then come abruptly back to Mulder. "Good enough. An occultist - wasn't it, John? - who we thought was dealing with, well, demons. Which would've been one thing. But he's apparently branched out." He scratches his stubbly chin and furrows his brow, continuing. "He - if you'll believe it - came from Brighton, originally, which is why the WHO is interested. But now he's here, somewhere." Hey, Pete Wisdom isn't the only unknown quantity here. Hell, all three of them are wildcards. "Yeah, he was playing evil mastermind," Constantine agrees casually. "He'd got 'minions.'" The quote marks should practically be springing up in the air around him. "And yeah, his people thought they were demons, and so did I, but that doesn't seem to be true, from what I've found out. It's more scientific." Science. Isn't it supposed to be *opposed* to magic? John certainly has never been much for technology. Demons...wait, science? Mulder shifts in his seat, and now he's interested despite his better judgement, and now you will never, ever get rid of him, you lucky people. "What do you think they are now?" "Extraterrestrials," answers Pete, his attention on the stops the bus is taking. He's not all -that- familiar with the city, so he has to watch the streets they pass. "It's not the Shi'ar; if they had it in for us, there's not a chance we'd find out until far too late. It's entirely possible it's the Uncreated - they've a massive objection to anything religious, and may be working with this twit before they destroy him." He squints out the window. "It's also possible that whoever it is is working with an earthly group that's not as out of its tree as most of these newer 'chaos magicians' seem to be." A beat, and he looks at John. "Sorry." Mulder falls down at Pete. Do you have any idea at ALL what you've just said?:) Pete Wisdom says "*I* do. :) *Pete* doesn't. :)" Constantine *laughs*. Mulder !!!!!!!! Pete Wisdom grins a lot. Mulder says "You guys will never shake me now, ever." Pete Wisdom says "Oh, and - most of Earth, in Marvel continuity, has NO IDEA about the Shi'ar, so I don't think I'm stepping on any X-Files continuity, I don't think. Yes?" Mulder says "As long as they're unknown, it's fine." Mulder says "XF continuity states there are different kinds of aliens about." Constantine winces visibly as Wisdom treats the subject of aliens so casually, then casts a worried glance at Mulder. "Pete?" he says, a bit weakly. "You might want to slow down a bit." He shifts uneasily. "I don't think it's the Uncreated, either--aliens aren't my forte," hell, he wouldn't know about them at all if not for Pete, "but I've got a feeling that they weren't actually working with the nut who got himself 'minions' with alien DNA. Whoever's responsible for these things seems to be scrambling to cover it up--one of the reasons I've had trouble finding out about it--so it was probably a leak. But for the same reason, I think it's a leak from something big." The word 'extra-terrestrials' was all it took to light the fire of obsession, and Mulder is quite suddenly not so nonchalant any more, sitting bolt upright and staring as first one, then the other of these two starts talking about different kinds of aliens and DNA and he's thinking about Samantha and bees in the desert and the coverup and the Syndicate and - "WHAT?!" Pete Wisdom dances. ^_^ Mulder OOCly grumbles.:) Mulder says "I hope Pete hasn't underestimated my passion for this subject. Nobody's getting off this bus till I get an answer I'm semi-satisfied with.:)" Pete Wisdom says "We're taking you with us to the sushi and beer bar with kung-fu movies, though! And we can keep talking there, see? I'm good at planning." Mulder says "You *have* underestimated my passion. Um - I'm a little nuts about this.:)" Pete Wisdom says "Yes. o.o But we're not ditching you..!" Mulder doesn't matter. You'll see.:) Mulder ahems. That was a say. Not a pose. Nodding to John, then pausing and frowning again, Pete finally ends up shaking his head. "Likely they're not working with him, but he might figure they are. There's been no indication that he's at all intelligent, but they're supposedly deviously so. Then again, all I've ever seen of them is their records an' a stiff." He sighs and crosses his arms over his stomach, continuing to watch the street signs. And then Mulder's unaccountably yelling. Wisdom turns to look back at him and blinks. "I thought you were familiar with this sort of thing. Now you think I'm bloody mad, don't you. *Fuck*. Constantine..." Constantine closes his eyes and puts a hand to his forehead. "Shit," he says wholeheartedly. "He don't think that, mate. But he's been *looking* for aliens for years." He carefully avoids saying any of the more specific stuff he knows about Mulder. Yeah, he wants the agent to think he has amazing sources, but not when it comes to his own personal information. That would be bad. That would get him shot. "Think of it this way. Someone spends their life trying to find out what the creative processes of the great artists of the Renaissance," he waves a hand dismissively, "were, and then some bloke they're talking to starts casually describing how he owns some old letters where Leonardo da Vinci *and* Michaelangelo *and* a lot of others like 'em described in detail what went into their greatest works." What the hell was he thinking when he started that metaphor? He has to give up this line of thinking lest he get too annoyed with himself. Oh well. He folds his arms over his chest and just looks at Pete. "You see what you did?" Not that it was his *fault*, but hey. Mulder isn't paying attention to John, which is good, because he'd probably resent the hell out of being talked about in the third person. He's on his feet in the aisle of the bus, pointing a finger at Pete in no uncertain manner. Records, he heard records. "Where?" My sister. "How do you - what do you know?" Good thing he's on his feet, too, because their stop's coming up, and it would be, well, annoying if they missed their stop and had to circumnavigate the entire city to get back there. Pete lightly punches John in the shoulder. "Umbrella," he says, then looks back at Mulder. "The problem with you Yank feds is you don't take the British government seriously. You think we're sitting around with our thumbs up our arses? You've got your Roswell, we've got our Muir. Come on, let's discuss this like civilised men; the pub's just up there." Constantine casts a tired glance upwards, then stands up, handing Pete the umbrella without looking at him. "The *other* problem," he says to no one in particular, "is that the people higher in power than you hide *everything* you're meant to be finding out. And your whole job is finding things out. How the hell do you deal with it?" I deal with it by becoming the sort of person you see before you. Mulder doesn't seem inclined to get out of the way so the three can exit the bus, staring at Pete in utter disbelief. "I didn't...know, that..." All that articulacy, Oxford education, letting him down. Well, that was bleeding obvious. "Apparently not. Now, I take it from your sudden rabid interest in me that you've got a personal stake of some sort in this." Pete takes the umbrella, still watching Mulder, and stands as well. "That's fine. As long as I get who I'm after, I couldn't give a toss what else we get our hands on. If there's anything in particular you're looking for, tell me what it is, and if we run into it it's yours, all right?" A beat. "Are you going to move, or are you going to wait until the clippie screams?" Mulder awes at Pete. "I didn't think anything'd get him to shift aside.:)" Pete Wisdom flex. Constantine says "How do you mean, shift aside? :)" Pete Wisdom says "If you had more time to play, he wouldn't, would he? :)" Mulder says "I mean just step aside to let Pete by. No, he would! That's the thing!" Mulder says "That was exactly the right tone to take. I'm so impressed.:)" Constantine says nothing, doesn't look at either Pete or Mulder. He's a little resentful that Mulder seems to be responding to Wisdom so well, when he himself has had to struggle every time the agent spotted him in the country. He starts toward the exit, hands in his pockets, almost as soon as the bus draws to a halt, and while he hopes it doesn't mean having to push Mulder out of the way, he's not above that, either. He's *trying* not to look like he's sulking, really. Blink. Blink. The agent steps aside, one hand settled to a pole, staring from one Englishman to the other. Wait till it occurs to him that John knew this stuff before and didn't mention it.