Constantine stepped through the portal into his suite, closing it behind him with a snap. He tossed his backpack to his bed, his long black trencher flung to the chair, before he flopped onto his lounge with an exhausted sigh.
His bandās tour had finally come to an end, just in time for Ronnie to declare she needed a vacation from the lot of them and hop the first bus out of town, leaving Gaz with the hearse. Con supposed it made sense- sheād gotten so tired over the year-long journey that she barely had energy for their music, let alone the meet-and-greets, the interviews. The creation of new stuff had ground to a halt, mostly. Constantine still was writing like mad, coming up with new ideas and songs like a frenzied creature, but that was all well and good until it came to actually presenting and rehearsing said creations.
He glanced aside, rolling his wrist to magically unlock and open his bedroom door; it was a subtle indication of his return that those who lived in Lux knew to look for. Fuck, heād even missed celebrating his birthday back in May properly, too busy to do more than a few shots on the tour bus. Conād come back as often as he could, but was stretched thinner than old gum stuck to a shoe. It would be good to get a bloody break in.
Lighting a cigarette and lifting it to his lips between two slim fingers, Constantine wondered who would pop in to say hello first.
