The warlock pondered over those words as they resonated within him more than he realized. It just went to show him how much he didn't know about the fae. It only made him admit to himself how helpless he truly was when it came to the knowledge he needed over demons. "Interesting, I had no idea.." A frown appeared upon his worn features. Books were deceiving and unreliable things, trinkets that's all they were. It was the truth he needed, not figments and play on words. Then again he had been useless finding any kind of knowledge that could actually help him. He needed help, the ancient kind of help that didn't come cheap or easily. The creatures he needed were elusive beasts, the books stashed away in obscure locations, never to be found. In fact, many ancient supernaturals held that information in their private collection, never to see the light of day. You can't have secrets that could exploit weaknesses just laying around for any asshole with half a brain to exploit.

Regardless, Brennan felt compelled to give warning to the fae man at his right. Despite the jolly nature of these patrons, they were a hungry lot. They would give their right arm for fortune and would take no problem in taking advantage of what the supernatural world had to offer. It was the brutal reality of the world they lived in. That was why, the only person who suspected what he was, was Darby. They had an arrangement. Brennan had certain gifts that the barkeep found useful. It kept him wealthy enough that he never asked for a penny from the warlock. After all, when he could ask for anything, literally any object and receive it? What were a few missing bottles?

There was a solemn expression that seemed to find the fae's features, surely he was aware of human nature? "Lucky for you, they are all preoccupied." Some were celebrating birthdays others were just partying it up like it was their last night alive. Others just drank to forget, to drown out the sorrows that suffocated them in life. He used to feel like one of them, but the more time his own worries plagued his mind the more he realized how hollow it all felt. How on edge he felt even despite this was supposed to feel like home. The slightest of noises triggered him, a breeze too cold at the nape of his neck made him feel like it was the demon ready to collect. Nothing felt like home anymore once the hell dimension had taken its toll on him. These people.. really looking at them, they looked foolish. Every single one of them. Anguish ripped him up inside, almost drove him into madness. Yet he couldn't seem to allow himself to slip off that ledge.

Regardless, he was still wary of this strange duo speaking to him. Of course, they claimed they were not seeking revenge for something.. nor were they after something more sinister. Or were they? But then it all seemed to click into place. Something to do about a wedding that Darby's wife watched. Maybe some wedding tv show the Irishman was completely oblivious to, the man hardly watched any tv to begin with. The fae man seemed entirely perplexed by Brennan's deductions. That the two men were married and Lucian the burly fellow was not just hired muscle. The Fae man next to him seemed to chuckle at that.

Mio amico? Now who was talking gibberish? Servants?? Who even had servants anymore! Maybe he was living his life entirely wrong. "What are you king of England.. Who else would need two guards and a... manservant. " He shook his head in disbelief as he jested. It didn't really matter if the man was his husband or not or his lover. It was damned confusing to follow who was what and what was who. He began saying that his husband would never believe he met a pirate. You would think he dressed like captain hook or something. He glimpsed down at his own attire seeing nothing wrong with it. "Believe me, its not all that interesting." He seemed to be so fascinated by the fact that Brennan looked like a pirate. A pirate of all things! Maybe it was the jacket? Didn't pirates prefer rum? Then upon further pondering, who would even believe him that a fae man with two bodyguards and a manservant walked into a dirty old irish pub and chose to seek him out. Tonight, was a strange, strange night. It sounded like it could be the beginning of some joke. One of those weird ones that made you lift a brow in question.

Dorian shared a story of a night full of booze and entertainment that he didn't even remember his name. Brennan admitted that it sounded like a good time, hardly one he should be ashamed about. Perhaps he should let himself be free like that more often, but judging by the way he dressed he must have liked everything to be in a particular fashion and order of things. "You know they do sell wine here too, they might look at you a little funny and I can't promise its any good.." But what did he have to lose, they already did look at the fae a little funny, he was like neon light sign flashing his flashiness.

Despite the duos.. friendliness he couldn't help but wonder what motives they had. Was it to proposition him? That still lingered within his mind an every growing thought. Brennan warned him of what Darby carried underneath the bar, partially in jest despite the truth of it. The other man seemed entirely puzzled by it, if the look on his face wasn't enough his words only solidified it. He even took note how the fae eyed that bar countertop suspiciously as if he could see the weapon stashed underneath it. "Yeah, a glock.. It's a pistol.. a gun.. packing heat.." The warlock decided to keep the story of Darby shooting a man in the ass who decided to skip out on his tab to himself.

Causally Brennan called out to Darby asking for the usual, leaning into the bar, thrusting his empty glass forward. The older man muttered something to himself about cashing in something really big this time. Brennan chose to ignore him, like he always did. Darby could yammer on all he wanted but he knew he was getting the better end of the deal. He didn't even give him the top shelf stuff. Cheap bastard.

Regardless, Brennan did get his drink and Dorian got that top shelf whiskey. Lucky SOB. He raised his brow, giving Darby a solid dirty look. Finally, Dorian decided to take his perch upon the barstool. Surely his legs were getting tired from all that standing anyways.

Regardless, the fae was met with more laughter at his request. The fae seemed like his feathers were ruffled at the reaction. Brennan was even met with a scowl. He shrugged at the look, unphased by that look of sheer displeasure. He had been looked at much worse, bringing his own drink to his lips, downing it like he had downed the first.

"Well I can't say your wrong in your assumptions. But the man next to me passed out. He has a body shop a few blocks away. But he can hardly keep his head up let alone change a tire." He replied. So Perhaps Brennan was his only chance in this bar.

"You never met an Irish person?" He almost laughed again, surely this man was more sheltered than a child! He muttered something that seemed like it was an insinuated insult. 'your people'. But the thing about the Irish, maybe not all, but at least the people in the pub was that they could take and give an insult better than even the Scottish. Brennan mentioned something about triple a, clearly failing to be helpful. Surely one of his servants had to know of this. Or at least be of service in this department, apparently, they were just meant to tickle the fae's toes or powder his nose? Hell if he knew.

"Now if you put it that way.. I suppose you don't." The fae was entirely useless when it came to cars. How could he live that long and not know a thing about them? Maybe he was the wrong person to ask about demons.. and yet.. He was the best of shot that he had in that very moment and fate was a fickle creature and worked in mysterious ways. Regardless, the whole scenario was utterly hilarious. Unfortunately for the two fancy men, they didn't seem quite as entertained.

The warlock made the fae an offer. Deciding it best not to piss them off further if he was going to get anything out of them. He nodded at the two men as he said their names in a greeting of sorts. A nod was a form of respect. "Dorian.. Lucian." The warlock said eyeing each other distinctively.

Brennan was willing to help the fancy fae Dorian but he wasn't about to let the rare opportunity as the sliver of a chance that he might have the knowledge or access to it of what could possibly save what was left of his soul. He may not know how to put his vehicle back together again, but the man was crafty enough to make it work. "I don't need money. I need something more particular.." He replied ambiguously. Money.. Perhaps it would have peaked his fancy once upon a time.. but it all seemed so foolish now, when the stakes were beyond money. Dorian slid the drink to the man, and he would never turn down a drink like that. He dipped his head in a nod, sliding the drink close to himself. "Thanks."

Then again, who needed money when he could summon whatever he needed into existence? The roguish man wondered if he created it with his magic or if it was simply stolen from somewhere else. He didn't know and didn't really give a damn. It wouldn't stop him anyways, his morals were rather questionable to begin with. He was hardly a saint and would never pretend to be one. "I need information on demons, you know, the kind of information that can't be found.." He said the word demon's a little quieter than the rest of his words. Surely a fae would be able to access that kind of information. He didn't live that long without learning something of the sinister beasts that walk this earth. Then again the man knew nothing when it came to cars and that was far more simple than the monsters that plagued the earth.

Hardly shy by the compliment of his eyes and perhaps lack of one in regards to his hair, the man put on a charming roguish grin. " I haven't had anyone complain." But as to why he was here, well that was a long tale. "Doesn't it always come down to a woman?" Perhaps it did when it came to the wayward warlock. Maybe he was just destined to be cursed when it came to love. Not that he was some love sick puppy, maybe somewhere deep down he was just as pitiful. It took a certain kind of woman to keep his attention but when they did, he would dismantle hell for them. Regardless how hard he was capable of loving his love life was in shambles. His fiancé and had been murdered and he had seen red driven by hate and anguish, nothing could stop him. There was so much fallen blood, so much unrest. He spent years trying to make the right person pay. It didn't make it feel any better either. That was when he met her, a dark haired minx that made him forget, that kept him on his toes and made him feel. It was like she brought him back to life, but then again that only disintegrated to ash when her captor sent him to hell. Quite possibly literally. Regardless, when he made a deal with a demon to return to this earth, everything had changed, she had moved on. Everything that once fueled him, every motivation, every urge to return to this world was suddenly unhinged. Now he had to deal with a demon that had no intentions of letting him go. He knew he was running out of time. Perhaps he should have just stayed in that wasteland.. Perhaps a piece of himself still remained there.

"I am doomed to be a cursed man." He looked at the fae dead in the eye, his face serious in that moment, there was no usual humour dancing in his silver eyes. Anything good that dared to enter his life either died or left. There was a shadow that tarnished his gaze in that moment as he peered at the dark amber liquid.

"All I have to show for it is the aftermath of my own destruction." Lady aftermath was his and she would kill him one day, drive him to the brink of true death. It was a good thing that he was hard as hell to kill. Even if someone did succeed, the irishman hoped it didn't eventually lead him back to that hell dimension. He knew there was no way he would be going anywhere good though. So regardless he was doomed. Doomed to hell on earth and hell elsewhere in death. He was not a hero, he wasn't going to pretend to be. He brought the drink to his lips, finishing the last morsel in the cup. That was some good shit, smooth and delicious all the way down. Now this liquid, he knew would never disappoint. "Women have always been my downfall, I suppose." He scoffed, mainly at himself. After all, it was a woman that indirectly led him into hell. It was not Serafina's fault no, he could never blame her but it was her pesky little mentor that snuffed out his slim chance of happiness.

The shift in music lured some of the idle patrons to dance like a sirens song, some music was simply irresistible. That prompted a question from the fancy fae who surprisingly was still here. Were the Irish always to boisterous? That was a rather loaded question. "Well that depends on the night and well the people. I suspect you probably walked into the wrong bar. But aren't all bars lively? If so, they are doing it wrong. Are fae always so... fancy and reserved?" Perhaps shy was a good way to call him. Not in the way a school girl was shy but shy to live, to undress from that fine cloth and let down those carefully placed shields so to speak.

Brennan O'Connell