“Hello, how are you, I’m horrible. Pleasantries out of the way, I’m calling in one of my favors,” Constantine rattled off as soon as Bruce picked up the phone. His words were a rush and caught on the thicker than normal edges of his accent. “Might be more than one, might be a few. However many it takes, I’m calling them in. I told you that you’d owe me for making me deal with that city of yours. She’s a right bitch when she wants to be.”
“John,” Bruce interrupted.
Constantine took in a heavy breath and then let it out slowly in a sort of bone weary exhale. “Favors, I’m calling them in.”
“I am not helping you hide a body.”
Constantine chucked sourly. “Yeah, well, sorta need the opposite of that, mate.”
“Hn?”
“Yeah. See, I need some new identities, and they need to be identities that no one can come for because I’m not letting anyone harm them. Not anymore,” Constantine said, words thick with a promise of things worse than death for anyone stupid enough to try.
Bruce was not that stupid.
And he understood.
“Come over.”
“I’m bringing them.”
“Hn.”
“They’ve seen weirder shit than you and yours, pretty boy,” Constantine growled. He took another one of those rough breaths. “But I can leave them upstairs. The manor is safe. I just can’t leave them alone.”
Bruce frowned at the admission from Constantine that he found Bruce’s home safe. It was more honest than the man normally was, which was worrying. Either Constantine was that exhausted or whoever he was talking about were that important.
“I’ll let Alfred know we’re having guests.”
“Two plus me,” John said. Relief threaded through his stilted words. “Kids. Teenagers, I guess.”
“Okay.”
“…okay. Right. Thanks. Ta.”
