That one word was uttered almost too softly over the loud, thudding music, barely a breath of a word. But it was unmistakable all the same. The man said he was a fae. What were the chances of a fae finding him in this grimy, run down but authentic bar? He had read of fae in those infuriating and confusing books. Some say that demons and fae were quite similar in many ways. It made him question why he was here? Of all damned places, he chose this one. Perhaps fate had a way of bringing people together. He raised a brow in question. How incorrect those books were, unless this was some kind of glamour. Wouldn't he sense that? "No wings?" He questioned. After all, he was so very different than what he imagined what a fae would look like. In fact, they looked terrifying in those books that were now sitting unread on his table, strewn haphazardly doing no good there. Not that it made any difference before. "Its probably best you keep that knowledge to yourself, in these parts. I would imagine you are considered... valuable." The Irishman spoke quiet enough to not draw too much attention.

Brennan hadn't quite determined what this interesting duo wanted from him, speculating if possibly it had to do with a past transgression. It wouldn't be the first for someone to seek him out for that very purpose and it probably wouldn't be the last. But the man seemed almost oblivious of this and that suited him just fine. However, it only left more questions, all he fucking had were questions in this life and very few answers it would seem. He still remained cautious and ever vigilant of the two fae, if they were anything like that demon than they might as well have been a wild card of sorts. He wouldn't let his guard down. Better to be a cautious warlock than a dead one. If Brennan was an insect he would be a cockroach, they survived virtually anything.

The formal man seemed terribly confused by his words, he truly was not from around here, if his accent wasn't evidence enough. He ran an idle hand through the stubble on his face. Before he could respond, the other one explained what it meant. The man sounded like he might of well been a walking dictionary. Regardless, Brennan seemed to smirk at that pirate term being thrown at him. He had been called worse things and he merely smirked in response. Fancy words to match their fancy attire."Well, that's a fancy way to put it for a henchman." He seemed like he was just there for show and for muscle.

The warlock's silvery eyes found Dorian once more as he spoke and it only made for confusion than ever before. He also wasn't quite sure why he was sharing this much without some booze in his system. Also, mind you, he was a bit surprised to find out he was gay. Despite the surprise that found his features, it somehow all made sense now. "Oh! I didn't realize you two were.. ohh! That makes much more sense. Apologies for thinking you were just the muscle." At least it made sense why he was watching the man like he might lose him. Hey to each their own. It really didn't matter what got you off or who, or what. After the Fae told the story about getting so drunk he hardly remembered his name. Brennan seemed quite unphased. "Sounds like a good time to me.. Most of these people forget their name night after night here.. Probably better that way." Hm now the question remained. Where did the Irishman fit in all of this? They better not be looking for a third for a night of fantasy they were looking to fulfill because he was as straight as an arrow. Yeah, he might be having a bit of a dry spell and unlucky in the love department but he just didn't swing that way.

"You might want to work on that tolerance of yours. A little free advice. You might claim you will never drink again but I can assure you, that.. never happens." He spoke idly gesturing toward the wall of booze. His downfall, he would have to admit if he wasn't so blind to see it. But then the older barkeep chimed in, cutting off Dorian mid-question, probably THE question where he asked him for a good time. Well, that would be a first, being propositioned at an Irish pub.

Brennan advised the fancy fae about the old barkeep, Darby. He was older but not defenseless. "I wouldn't mess with him, mate, he keeps a glock underneath the bar counter." He was partially joking and partially quite serious, he was mainly harmless but he had seen the man fire it before. "Bring me another one of usual, Darby." He raised his empty glass, surely that bar maiden didn't want that big tip he offered. If he wasn't going to have to fight these men off than the least he can do is continue drinking, it was what he came here for, a distraction. At least he was getting that.

That was when the dark-haired Fae next to him asked for something non-alcoholic. Brennan couldn't help the rich bellowing laugh that escaped him, nor could the barely awake man next to him who also chimed in mutter something slurred and nonsensical. As though he woke up just enough for that, how they were going to get that man home was beyond him. Brennan expected Darby to laugh too and maybe give the fae some hell and yet.. He somehow recognized the man, hell, he was even grateful for him and some wedding. Clearly, he must be drinking again and was talking gibberish, his accent thicker than the day he got off the boat.


Of course, Brennan had no idea what that even meant. How did Darby know who this man was? Puzzled, this night was proving to be just plain odd in comparison to the one he saw for himself. He took another long look at the duo, not quite understanding how Darby of all people recognized them. Perhaps asking what he was, was not the right question at all. But the correct question was who. It was then that the Fae man turned his attention back to the very baffled Brennan who was grateful for the top up of his drink. At least he could drink until he made sense of it all.

Mind you, he was still musing over the fact that they were Fae, maybe just maybe he could gather some info on his little demon problem. It was a blind stab in the dark but it was better than anything he came across. What the fae said was so completely left field, he merely felt dumbfounded. Well, he was clearly wrong about the proposition. It was A proposition, just not the one he had assumed. He had car troubles and was looking for help. At least it made sense and it was far better than being straight and propositioned for a night of passion to some rich gay guys. Not that it was a bad thing, it just wasn't his thing. His thing was very much women. "You thought you could find what you were looking for amongst a bunch of drunkards?" He nearly fell off his chair in a fit of laughter, shaking his head. "Have you never heard of triple a? You know instead of an Irish Pub of all place." The Irishman asked but then realized that wasn't going to help him. "Look..I might be able to help you out.. Dorian and co. But maybe.. there is something you could help me out with first..That is unless your royal ass cannot handle these bar stools any longer." That iconic sarcastic jest slipped his lips, completely oblivious as to how entirely accurate that royal part was. "By the way, I suppose you can call me Brennan."

Brennan O'Connell