The grey storm-cloud hued suit the warlock felt odd to him. The slacks were fine and so was the black button up shirt, except for the fact it felt so odd being buttoned up, the man so often left at least 3 to 4 of those buttons undone at all times. And worst of all, he wore a black and white striped tie, he struggled with tying it, it had been so very long since he wore a cursed suit and put this level of attention into his own appearance. He hardly wished to make suits a regular occurrence within his wardrobe, he felt naked without his leather jacket. Serafina made him promise though, that he would look presentable and a promise to that dark-haired minx would never be broken, so long as he could help it. He even went to the barber the day before, who cleaned up his unkempt scruff and tamed the messy locks of his rich espresso brown hued hair.

He felt like a tamed prized show pony, every last inch of him was so very maintained and it felt so... odd. It had been so long being trapped within that hell dimension and this was a huge contrast from that hardened, feral man he became in that desolate wasteland. Serafina better at least give him the eyes, if nothing else. Surely, he had earned that much. He knew she was off living her new life with that hunter and he wasn't going to get in the way of that. But was it so wrong to look at her? It was god damn torture for the roguish warlock in her presence but still. He could hardly help it.

Regardless, he wouldn't have anyone else at his side but her in that very moment. He knew it would delight her to potentially meet royalty and an excuse to spend time with the witch was surely another motive of his. Surely, she would be better at these situations at him, then again, when has he ever been in a position like this ever before? Never.

Mind you he still wasn't sold on Dorian actually being king of whatever that country he told him, England? Spain? The warlock had all but forgotten, it was even written on the goddamn card. Whatever, he wasn't going to change his spots even if he was dressed in the finest of attire and pretended to be the gentleman he was expected to be. He would forever be an Irish warlock born in raised in the gutter, hardly destined to ever be the hero or obtain his happy ending. He supposed he would always be that man, not that it ever really bothered him. In fact, he hardly even thought of it. He enjoyed life on his boat, he had everything he needed. Maybe not the girl or the opulence of royalty, but he had a home and that meant something. How many could say that there home could venture out in the ocean he so found comfort within? Even within that tumultuous unreadable sea, he felt comfort, felt like he belonged, even if only for a few hours. The waves would always be his solace no matter how vicious they were.

For some reason Sera had insisted on meeting him here and of course, she arrived after him. No doubt doing whatever womanly stuff they did to get primped. It took women hours what would take him thirty minutes tops, and that was including a shower and admiring at himself in the mirror for a few moments. All of this for TEA, someone had to be playing a strange joke on him. Who ever put this much effort into tea, he would never understand. But that chap Dorian seemed too keen on it, it was why Brennan came prepared with a flask in his inner breast pocket and gifts. That was how he intended on surviving this little charade by playing the part.

Dorian was a nice guy, a little... ok a lot bit on the fancy side but his company was enjoyable once he finally perched upon that bar stool with him. He certainly stood out like a sore thumb at that very lively bar. How he even winded up there Brennan would never know, broken down vehicle or no. Better yet, he had that book. That very book that could very well be his one and only saving grace in this debacle he was chin deep within. God, he truly needed a break in this. His days were numbered, he hadn't seen that demon in about a month far before he even met the fae monarch. All the demon had done was hissed in his ear while he slept with his bed comprised mainly of books. 'Ssssssooon I will collect my dues' it sounded all too serpentine for his liking. It woke him up with a fright, his magic at the ready to fight but the creature was gone before he could face it. The very thought of it made him sick, made his skin crawl.

This meeting could come none too soon. The warlock paid little mind to just how prim and proper this neighborhood truly was. He was lost in his own mind, wanting nothing more than for Serafina to get here so perhaps she could tell him if this was legit or not, but judging on the appearances of things, it clearly was. Brennan was so very keen with scenting out a liar and Dorian seemed honest enough.

Brennan parked his car by the curb, the very muscle car stood out like Dorian did at that dimly lit, rundown, animated Irish pub. He shrugged his thoughts away, retrieving two carefully secured boxed within the back seat. All before striding down the illuminated road with his usual confident swagger even despite the uncharacteristic, restrictive clothing. At least the man was, for once in his cursed life, prepared. Hopefully it would impress that midnight haired witch at the same time, but he wasn't quite so sure anymore.

There were so many guards posted just outside a massive fortress like gate. A bit overkill he thought to himself before striding right up to one blond haired guard who immediately looked at him like he was a gutterrat. Brennan began questioning him, not bothering to explain why he was even there in the first place, the guard barely gave him any sort of answers. He was pretty sure the man was going to ask him to leave when he heard the clicking of those heels, a welcomed sound. Serafina. It was like the roguish hunter came to life in her presence, that charming wily grin dancing across his lips when he turned to face her. He gave her the up and down, his eyes lingering on every last curve of her body. He didn't care that the guards could hear him. "You look ravishing, Sera." Those Irish lyrics dance from his tongue eagerly, she stole his damn wretched breath from his lungs.

She claimed that she thought the fae was not lying that night in the pub. "Eh. I don't think so either, this place could fit every Irish man, woman and child... I am sure of it. I wore everything you told me to.. even this stupid tie. Just in case it turned out to be true." He seemed a little grumbly on the tie, it put a pressure on his neck that he was hardly accustomed to.

Serafina brought up the hell hound and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Barney, short for Barnabus. And thank you..." He looked upon the package with a look of curiosity. "I will tell him it's from you too. Why the scowl Sera? I know you will warm up to the beast one day.. He will come in handy, I know it." Why he bothered trying to get her to warm up to the beast he hardly knew. Yet still, Serafina's opinion seemed to matter a great deal to the warlock.

"I have a flower for my date.." He suddenly offers her a singular red rose with a black ribbon tied around it with the thorns removed, it was cut somewhat short so she could easily store it or pin it to something if she wanted. The box that held that rose was on top of another much larger one. "I learned how to enchant it with good fortune.. with one of my not so useless books. He muttered proudly then, standing tall to mirror that very emotion as if she would take a certain pride in him. He offered her the rose and... offered the poor disgruntled guard the macaroons to hold while he opened the gift Serafina offered. "I picked the fanciest thing I could think of.." That irish brogue rang clearly from his lips, regarding to the larger box containing the macaroons.

He opened his gift swiftly, those fingers move with practiced ease before revealing what looked like a collar. "Its going to be a handful getting it on him, but I think he will appreciate a little bling in time.. Will hold it for me until the night is done?" He beamed at the witch, entirely oblivious to what the collar actually did only that it possessed a gently pulsing magical imprint that seemed to be infused within it.. Interesting. "Thank you, he will love it."

But if they didn't get their slow asses in gear they would be late. "Now or never.." He declared, offering the lady his arm before looking to the guard expectantly.

"You can let us in now. I have an appointment.. The name is Brennan." He uttered rather cockily, even though he was so hopeless in wondering just what a royal tea really meant. "I will take that.. and you should really move a little faster mate, or else we will be late and it will be all your fault." Clearly all his fault...

With reluctance the gates opened with a creak and they were met with an escort who led them all the way to the grandeur entrance way. "I don't think I expected this.." He muttered to Serafina in almost awe, taking in all that opulence he could hardly dream of.

Brennan O'Connell