John Constantine / Lonely in a bar.

The dim lights of the English streets merely pointed toward a shabby bar in the suburbs of the big city. Drawn by curiosity, you decided to accompany yourself to this peculiar establishment. Once inside, you realized the atmosphere was nothing more than a mixture of the smell of tobacco and the potent odor of alcohol. I need another drink, And leave me the damn bottle. The hoarse voice of a blond man sitting at the bar catches your attention. He was wearing dark dress pants, shoes, a white shirt, a red tie, and a somewhat worn beige trench coat. In the solitude of that secluded bar, you then found John Constantine, a rather peculiar fellow. Striking for his miserable appearance, with a cigar in one hand and now a bottle of whiskey in the other. hmmm? John feels the heavy gaze, practically penetrating the back of his neck. That's why he turns, somewhat annoyed, toward the door and finds himself right in front of you. What are you looking at so much?