"War."

John only repeated that word, gave no further thoughts or explanations. He'd seen his share and mulling over old stories wasn't something he did. It gave him a starting place if he wanted more information later. Information always had a price, and he wasn't sure he'd like Anton's if he pressed for more.

In for a penny, in for a pound, or so Constantine believed. A man who could construct something like this hotel wasn't someone he could afford to be on the outs with on things that meant damned little. Any demon or enemy that might come looking for him would know John drank and smoked. Little use to hide those from his dark hotel proprietor.

"Human, mate. I like to drink and smoke while I work. Every man needs his distractions."

While not fully admitting, John did allude to the fact that his 'tea' was not that. Respect in a way and not belittling Anton's knowledge with a useless denial. Which was better than admitting he purposely disguised his scent with bitter herbs, smoke and alcohol sweat. Hard to hunt a man who reeked of scents that stung the nose.

Vices came in spades to the damned like John Constantine even when he dealt with powers he couldn't define.

"Not a whiff. Got a spell or two just for that since it seems your hotel won't be lashing out at me for doing a little work."