"Okay sugar daddy," John drawls with an accompanying smirk that Eames hopefully would find the light humour endearing and wouldn't take offence. He sets his popcorn down in front of him and eats one. It's just starting to get soft now but it's at least not stale.

Constantine should probably stop eating out of his betting pool but he's still feeling confident. The way he peels his cards up and brushes his thumb over the corners before looking at them suggests it's not his first time holding cards.

"John Constantine." His words have a distinct Scouse lilt to them so he doesn't feel the need to state the obvious to a fellow Englishman. "Exorcist, demonologist and... fumbling my way around the dark arts. And yourself?"