"How would you rather I look at you like?" He could hardly help that wayward challenge in his words. His eyes glittering with certain mischief. Ah, women, want you to appreciate them, the way they looked, the way they smelled, the tiny nuances to their flirtations, but if you look at them the wrong way they get their circuits in a twist. The silvery and sea blue infused eyes seem to cast her a glance.

She then announces that his viewing pleasure is about to end. "I think that is where your wrong." He replied smoothly, that suggestive hint lingering within his Irish accented words even though she is grinning at him like she should earn a prize. "I still have those gorgeous judgmental eyes to look at, now don't I?" Now he toys with her buttons as if curious to see if he could crack that confident composure he was quite sure was only for show.
The Waitress shows up before commenting on them and how much fun there are having, bringing out massive but snuggly hoodie. How peculiar that they even had them here, perhaps it was some sort of unspoken girl code that he knew nothing about.

"She chose to sit next to me too.. I think I make the little lass a little nervous." That rich irish brogue easily parts from his lips. He then continues to bring more of that much desired warm meal to his mouth, he was going to enjoy every last morsel of that greasy but delicious carnivore's special.

The dark-haired woman began to explain how she had family back in Ireland but never had went to that grand country. "You have family back in Ireland and you've never been, well that is a sin. You ever get the chance, you really should go." He cast her a sideways look before she asked him of his family. How long had it been since he had been home, those memories almost to painful to relieve, even after all that time away.

"No family.. I used to.. but they are all gone now, not they would miss me much.. It's just me and my April Rose now.." He spoke about his boat with a wistful fondness. The one woman that would never truly let him down, despite being a temperamental thing. He apparently had a type, gorgeous and high maintenance and feisty.

"Fussy thing she is, but she had kept me safe after all this time even when the sea is at its worst." He gestured to the sea, a challenge within his eye then, even in the heat of the tumultuous storm, he still wanted to be close to that sea. It meant he was far away from hell. At least, that in his mind, was a small semblance of a victory even when still the devil was so content to snatch him back.

Their conversation shifts to alcohol, she certainly did have a point though, skip the bad stuff and go right to the good shit. Couldn't argue with that logic. But then she had to open her mouth again she said she thought he was a pina colada man, now she was truly out to lunch. He could not help the way he looks at her near incredulously then, bringing some more of those buttery eggs to his lips. A little on the salty side but he hardly cared. He drew in a ocean scented breath, scoffing at the dark haired witch with narrowed eyes. He raised a singular brow at her..

"Get rid of the nasty coconut and pineapple, that will be the only way to make me a pina colada man." He flashed her a teasing grin. Of course, that only left the rum. A booming laughter escaped him in time for another thunderous boom as the wind began to pick up, sending a few unfastened napkins to go scattering about.

He could hardly help but recall that night he wished he had forgotten, nearly drinking his weight in whisky. She seemed curious of it but not bold enough to ask him flat out, not that he was going to share that particular night with her. "Not my finest moment little dear." There was mischievous glint to his eye. "I woke up with the biggest hangover I've ever had in my life, it's a good thing the owner likes me, he let me sleep at the bar. Most people would have sent my sorry ass to the streets." The reasoning why he drowned himself in an ocean of booze had little meaning to the pair now and he seemed quick to gloss over it.

The Irish warlock seemed to easily call her out for what she was. Surely she was adept at picking out their own kind from a crowd. Right? Maybe not, she did seemed to get somewhat offended by his words like he had called her a filthy word. He was not anticipating that. "What do you.... oh.. yes, witch. " He raised a brow at her, surely she had to have known. If not, this was going to make for one hell of an awkward talk. "Little witch.. big city.. I've seen it before. Nothing to be ashamed about if that's what it is. I am a Warlock.. not much of one but I have a few tricks up my sleeve." That roguish grin spread across his lips, amused and yet so painfully cocky as he does not waiver. She will not pull a fast one on him, but she could surely try.

Brennan O'Connell