The cocky bastard who's still not feeling 100% after landing on the bed and clambering out of it barely bothered to raise his head when he heard voices of protest. He doesn't frequent hell but he expects there's a lot of protesting going on if people are arriving the way he is, so he doesn't pay it much mind, keeping his head down and his eyes closed to keep the too-bright lights out. It's not until he hears that distinct voice in that distinct accent, slightly higher than what he's used to when his voice isn't echoing inside his own skull, that he lifts his head and cracks one eye open and then the other, acknowledging the bloke that's been shoved inside the elevator with him.

"Whoa, mate." Constantine eyes Constantine up and down. He had a dream like this once, but they weren't in an elevator. And it involved significantly less clothing.

"You're looking bloody 'andsome from the outside."