The man wasn't entirely sure what she was doing, the woman seeming to... goad him to say the least. It wouldn't be the first time someone had done it, though he had to admit, it was the first time a woman tried to get under his skin. It wasn't working, though he was certain the more he worked with her the more it would affect him. Brenden was sure he would cross that bridge when he got to it, then burn it to the ground. Truly, he might have to invest in a gag to keep in his office, or at the very least bring one from his house. Oh, the options he could have. The thought of floating a piece of duct tape and smothering her mouth with it seemed oddly amusing and rather satisfying too. If he didn't have a guest in front of him, the man would laugh outright, or at the very least, smile at the thoughts. Instead, he trains his stern gaze on her, her voice rolling through the air as she attempts to harass him. Giving a lazy shrug at her, "I'm sure you have and I'm not terribly surprised by it either," he responds in a bored fashion. Harley would learn, sooner rather than later, that the man hardly cared if he insulted someone, let alone his own workers. She would get used to it or she wouldn't, it was as simple as that.

Glancing down at her, he watches her maneuver that paper into her back pocket, the man almost wishing he had shredded it before hiring her, simply to see what kind of reaction he could provoke from her for a change. The black-haired woman seemed like she would have a temper on her, something he might have to worry about with customers but he was certain he could handle it, handle her. As their conversation shifts, he can see Harley quite near bristling, a sort of weariness taking over her as Brenden's brows raise in a rare show of curiosity. He didn't care, not really, though, the man was anything but direct, hardly caring if he offended someone, "Oh? And why's that?" His tenors rumble in question as his eyes train on her, his intense stare searching for a story. He doesn't think she will give it up that easily, but he didn't mind goading her for a change. He could already see the two of them being an interesting dynamic. Brenden waits briefly before giving her the spiel, watching in real time as the woman instantly shuts him out. A flash of annoyance dances across his features briefly before he contains it.

Her response in regards to his gift has the man wanting to roll his eyes at her, instead, he glowers at the woman, "Sorry, I don't do tricks on demand. This isn't a carnival," he growls at her before she declares that she knew he was going to like her. Furrowing his brows slightly, "I don't like you," he states in return, "Just because I hired you doesn't mean that I care for you. You'll work for your keep here," Brenden states before reaching down to help her up and shake her hand. He watches her stare at it as if she were hesitating or she merely didn't know what he was doing. The man wasn't exactly being... polite but they had come to an understanding, it was his way of sealing the deal between the two of them. Of course, he could fire her if he wanted to but for now she would stay, he did need another tattoo artist. Harley stands up on her own then, refusing his help up, though he hardly minded, before she is shaking his hand, her grip surprisingly strong, stronger than he expected. The woman may be smaller than him but she was anything but dainty and feminine. Sure, she was beautiful but he hardly thought that if this woman would ever be a damsel in distress.

Pushing the thought away, he releases her hand as he finally introduces himself. Brenden's steel gaze meets hers, still surprised by the way she holds eye contact with him, she was either very brave in this world of magic or very stupid. He couldn't decide which yet. When his name rolls off her tongue, as if she's testing it, Brenden raises his brows slightly at the sound though he hardly responds before he crosses his arms over his chest. Her next question rolls off her tongue quickly, inquiring as to what he was. He had to give it to her, the woman didn't beat around the bush either, she didn't seem worried about offending anyone, though, the man was not one to be offended. "Warlock," he answers gruffly before she's launching into her own stipulations. Clearly, she wouldn't enjoy his playroom. He doesn't answer her, though she's quick to request a tour, his arms unfolding as he shifts slightly on his foot away from her, pointing, "Bathroom is there, office is upstairs, my station is upstairs, you can have the station in the back there and the door to the basement is there," he points in turn before dropping his hand with a shrug.

He doesn't particularly care to show her around much, though he does begin moving towards the back of the shop, rounding a wall that keeps her privacy while someone works, revealing a brand-new chair and desk area, the room rather large despite not having a door. "Do what you like with it, just don't trash the area. You're in charge of keeping your area clean and sanitary."