Not the word I'd use to describe them.

[ He's doing his best not to be... well, too much of a prat. He doesn't like dimensional fuckery to begin with, and well, Sara has a Constantine to get back to. Poor her, because he really doesn't wish anyone knowing any version of him.

He shakes a stick and gets to work drawing a circle with some Celtic runes. ]

Forest or something in the forest. Maybe someone pissed in the protective spirit's pool.

[ John looks back up at her and shrugs. ] He did, regardless if he can.