Girls Raven's age often had to dress up before going out, and witches were no exception.
So Deathstroke had a few minutes. He grabbed a handful of coins and went to the bar's public phone to call Albera. The small round table beside it was where Constantine often sat, and scorch marks still lingered on the floor.
The phone rang for a long time without anyone answering. Shaking his head, he returned to the bar.
"Trying to contact Little Miss Colorado? Don't waste your effort."
After finishing his drink, Bobo hopped off the bar and started warming up. Like an onlooker, he explained:
"You settled her bill after the last incident, right? Then until all that money has been turned into cigarettes and booze and poured into her stomach, don't expect to find her sober."
Music drifted from an old jukebox in the corner of the bar, nostalgic blues with a great deal of character.
Su Ming nodded. That was probably it.
If Constantine was an old chain-smoker, then she was an alcoholic—the kind who would buy cheap liquor even if she had no money left for food.
"I'd originally wanted to contact Lucifer through her and see what the King of Hell thought about snow falling in the Main Dimension."
"Lucifer isn't as easy to deal with as Maze." Bobo's expression turned strange as he folded his short arms. "Last time, you traded the corpse of a God's Avatar for one favor from him. What price can you pay this time to make him help or provide intelligence?"
Asking a devil for help was inevitably a transaction, and transactions required bargaining chips.
Whether the price truly had to be paid in the end or not, at the very least, it had to be tempting enough to catch a demon's