I've sailed a thousand oceans to be here in your arms.

Brennan's order was simple, just as he liked it. Well, his food that was. A sharp contrast to everything else in his life, which perhaps was how he also preferred it. That serious nagging hankering for some fish and chips was one he would not let persist for another day. Perhaps that was why he craved it so goddamns much because it was playing so hard to get. He would forever be a man of many vices, it would seem. He placed his own order while the blonde a few stools over contemplated over the menu of this.. fine pseudo-Irish establishment. The Irish warlock could practically feel the woman's curious eyes all over him and yet he hardly seemed to mind. He rarely ever did. Perhaps only if he was dying. But maybe... even then. Such uncharacteristic morbid thoughts that only seemed to rise their head in a pub... how... cliché. The Irish warlock shifted upon his stool with all the confidence in the world, like he owned the place. Even if he did own it... he wasn't quite so certain it would be something to brag about. Well, at the very least, in that, he was undecided. The Irishman preferred the west in so many ways. One could not tell when he looked right at home, even here, with that iconic roguish kind grin he flashed at the blonde that was half flirtatious, the other parts devious. Perhaps that look was more so a habit these days, his only real motive was some half decent fish and chips that were not burnt to a crisp.

The company, perhaps, was an added bonus that happened to present itself in the shape of a pretty blonde. He leaned heavily against the bar as he further shifted her way, those silvery blue eyes settling upon her as he spoke clearly, not bothering to tip toe around life even though he would consider himself still being quite nice. The bartender had to know what this place and what it wasn't. Surely there weren't that many people so out of touch with reality.... Oh, wait.

The pleasant sound of her light laughter reached his ears at his comment about him and that alcohol was the most Irish thing in this place that he said with a hint of arrogance. Yet her reply was lowered like she was about to tell him a dirty secret that he had to strain and lean in toward her just to hear as he refused to miss a word of it. Those words even brought out an amused huff as she agreed with him. Well, he was right so therefore she was too. Brennan seemed less discreet as the woman, not bothering to return her whispers. He truly hadn't said anything so offensive, did he? Ah, but this city was a lot of things pretending to be something else and people's egos were so very fragile. Last that he knew... the pub didn't have feelings. "Aye." He agreed heartily. If he offended the bartender, he could not tell. In fact, the other man didn't quite seem to be listening to their conversation at all, or at least was skillfully pretending not to. Not that Brennan seemed to mind one way or the other. How the bartenders at the establishments he had known, knew how to handle their customers. At least the good ones did (in his not-so-humble opinion). They knew how to relate, to even banter with their clientele simply because they knew how to bring in better tips and regulars. Or maybe he had just been served by one too many gruff old men who had seen some things in their lifetime that hardly seemed to care or he was doted on by female bartenders who simply put up with his antics more.

"Yet if what I wanted was a true taste of Ireland. I would be there and not here. Although, there is a little bit of irony to it, is there not blondie? The man from Ireland who has no desire to be home finds himself in many an Irish pub?" Yet the Irish warlock did nothing to elaborate then. Even despite all his gripes with the city, he chose to be here did he not?

The warlock supposed he should have expected the blonde woman to then turn to him for a recommendation on that very menu as she turned to face him and nudged her menu his way. That utterance that she clearly was not about the fish and chips as he was. To him, any local chipper would do. It was a hard dish to muck up. This place only had the added bonus of alcohol. "This is my first time here. Same as you, I am guessing. While I do like your infinite trust in me.... Just choose what you like. Surely something here tickles your fancy." How very... unhelpful the Irish warlock was being.

"You probably won't go wrong with that Shepherd's Pie... We eat that in Ireland too and a great deal of other things that are not Irish." He snorted his silvery blue eyes glittered with an all too teasing edge.

But what truly surprised him, even caused his dark brows to raise skyward was her knowledgeable answer on that whiskey. Dare he say he was impressed, although Brennan said nothing about that. Only now did he lower his voice even though it hardly had any altercation on his thick accent. "Are we still talking about the whiskey, lass? Or yourself?" The bartender then slid his drink toward him, one that Brennan swiftly drew to his lips to... taste. Putting the woman's assessment to the test.

"Hmm, not bad... and I can see your point."

His tongue trailed over his lips before he mindlessly downed the rest, placing the glass down with gusto.

"Another. Just like that one, I want another with my meal." His attention pinned upon the bartender for a moment before returning to the blonde a few stools over.

"You can come a little closer, I am not going to bite, lassy."

Brennan O'Connell

a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor