Their glasses were filled again. Constantine was rather curious about what topic Schiller would bring up next.
There was actually not much to discuss regarding Constantine himself. He was already an adult with a fully formed worldview and internally consistent logic. He was awful, but he was not crazy.
Given the degree of suffering Constantine had endured, psychotherapy would not do much good. Even if he wanted to find a psychologist to confide his pain in, he certainly would not choose Schiller, because for quite a long time now, Schiller had been the source of his pain.
But unexpectedly, Schiller pulled another glass from beneath the coffee table. He had just poured the wine when a bang came from the balcony, as though something had hit the floor, followed by a clatter and a creak.
The window was pushed open, and Zatanna rushed in. She picked up the glass Schiller had just set down and poured the wine straight into her mouth.
The magician wiped her mouth with her wrist. Constantine looked up at her, his face full of astonishment.
Zatanna was not wearing her usual stage magician's outfit. Instead, she wore a long wool coat, a pink silk blouse with mother-of-pearl buttons, a fitted long skirt, and even pointed-toe high heels.
"Good Lord, you look like you just came back from a parade float procession in Spain!" Constantine exclaimed dramatically.
The wine made Zatanna cough violently, but she still reached out and smacked the back of Constantine's head, warning him to shut up if he did not know how to speak properly.
Constantine stared at Zatanna's face in surprise. He had to admit that the magician was very beautiful. Her features carried a Latin charm, with thick black hair and eyebrows that made her already striking features appear even