There was a kind of person in this world whose every word and action caused no real harm, yet still made people want to slap him.
The last person Peter had met like that was Reed Richards, and today, he had met the second.
"Fine. Anyway, what I need handled isn't some huge deal. Anyone will do. Name your price."
Peter really wanted to hang up, but then he thought about it. The previous call had not gone well either. If he hung up again, would that make him look like he was slacking off?
So he could only ask, "What do you want?"
Peter had no idea what sound the other party heard, but he raised an eyebrow and wore a surprised expression.
After taking another drag of his cigarette, he said, "You don't even know who I am?"
Peter was genuinely getting annoyed. He could tolerate someone being awful, and he could tolerate someone being arrogant, but he could not tolerate someone who was both awful and arrogant. People like that were usually incredibly irritating, just like Reed Richards.
"Allow me to introduce myself. John Constantine. I don't know what backwater you crawled out of, kid, but I need information on someone named Neog Sohip. He's alive, probably a historian, usually called Dr. Sohip."
"He's about my age. The last time I saw him, he was wearing a black double-breasted overcoat and a bowler hat, carrying a black suitcase. He had a bit of an Oxford accent."
Peter immediately thought of the first man who had called him. He instantly understood. This lousy bastard in front of him might be hunting down Sohip, and Sohip had prayed because he was seeking help.
Peter knew appearances could be deceiving, but it was truly difficult to feel any fondness for