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

Brennan could not help but look at the man blankly as he spoke of sign language or some shit. It was some kind of body language thing that whales did underwater that only served to further baffle the warlock. Willy was right when he explained it was complicated. No one other than a whale or shifter would likely understand it... he was sure. "I am just going to have to take your word for it, mate." The dark-haired warlock seemed to consider it for a little while longer, before abandoning it all together. He would never have to speak whale. The warlocks' thumb toyed with the polished top of one of the protruding wooden handles. One hand rested upon the top while the other fiddled with the depth meter.

With the full sails swelled with the wind, the boat picked up momentum which only caused the ship to keel over just slightly. Ah... The wind that pressed against his face with a ferocity fueled him with life. This was what it meant to be alive. The scents, the boat crashing into those waves, the sounds of it brought a temporary inner peace inside of him. A sanctuary. No demons could follow him out here he thought and yet there was always a first. His silvery blue gaze shifted toward the mark on his forearm, that mark possessed a nasty, angry hue that hardly seemed to lessen. It was like his body rejected its harsh magic. It didn't hurt, at least not anymore. But it had been there so long it simply became a part of him. A reminder of what still awaited him.

That conversation shifted toward the less than charming hellhound that refused to stop his all too intent staring. The dog, fortunately, gained pretty damn good sea legs, all things considered. Zach seemed to move uncomfortably away from the dog, as though it made any difference should the beast desire to attack. So long as Zack didn't attack his master, it would seem to be enough to keep the scowling beast at bay. Of all things magical, himself included. Part man part beast. This notion of a hellhound seemed to baffle the man. His disbelief clear, as he accused Brennan of joking. "Regrettably to inform you, I am not." While it wouldn't have been against his nature, he was telling the truth, in this.

Brennan almost regretted it the moment he said the words that condemned him to a tirade of questions. So much for that peaceful sail home. IT was all but ripped right from beneath his still damp boot-clad feet. A frustrated groan escaped Brennan's parted lips. Where did he start? How about the people munching. That thought shouldn't have amused him as much as it did. "Barney.... Barnabas has not eaten a person yet. I found him when he was really tiny and impressionable, you can see we both looked out for each other. I can't say the same for his siblings, they would have torn me limb from limb if I met them now. If I were you though, I'd still keep your hands to yourself. So far he's only had a soft spot for some women and me of course. My boy and I... we've been through a lot." There was a clear fondness the way he spoke about that beast, his gaze shifting to glance at the ominous hound who seemed to know that he spoke with him. Brennan didn't touch upon where he came from. Hell hound seemed pretty self-explanatory in Brennan's opinion and that was a story there was not enough booze to broach.

Brennan was happy to find the man had fallen silent once more. He was oblivious to the fact that he was struck with sickness once more. Or that he attempted to fasten himself and whatever contents in his gut to remain where they were. Barney seemed all too content with this newfound silence, abandoning his charge to draw by Brennan's side. The warlock's callused battle-worn fingers seeked to brush within the dog's soft fur. Hell that glamour was good. How tame he looked in comparison to what he was. The fur even felt real, even to him. He was far more compact, kinder in the face. Serafina did good work. He wondered if it was no mere glamour at all.. But something transformative! That impressive woman could excel at anything, he was sure. He could feel that vibrational hum of magic that rippled at the edges, but that was it. He did little to poke at them, knowing damn well Serafina would be less than happy to redo her work.

This time it was Brennan to break the silence. It was not all that often he had company on these sails after all and he was being dreadfully quiet. Ah, but he should have known better. How quick the shifter was to grasp at even the slightest of openings and invite himself to 'live' with him for a temporary amount of time. "Ah, fucking hell." The Irishman cursed with a passion, looking upward in his own potent dismay. The exuberant man seemed to all but grin at him, toothy like the smiling face of an orca in human form. Brennan was utterly baffled by his gall! He didn't even know him and yet part of him seemed to pity him all the same even though it was an incredibly vague and distant irritating flutter. Brennan was no hero... not one to pick up strays and care for them. "You must be out of your head, lad." The Irish warlock's palm met his face.

"Give me one good reason why I would do that? Do I look like a charity?" Did he not clothe him? Give him a ride to shore? He had done more than enough. Yet, it served him right to entertain the man for even a second. He was fine, where he belonged. In the water. "You've got the wrong bloke." It hadn't been the first time he felt compelled to aid someone. Even though it more often than not had benefited him in some way. Fucking hell, he was going soft wasn't he. Like hell he was.

After several long moments of what seemed like the silent treatment. His gaze found the homeless shifter, his hand rose to point at Willy as his silvery blue eyes looked him dead in the eye. "One night. And if you try anything funny at all. Your sleeping in a tent on the beach or at the bottom of the ocean. Whichever mood I find myself in." He narrowed his steely gaze, looking at the all too happy man dead in the eyes unflinching even as that strange threat was offered.

"We clear?" He leaned into the wheel, a grumpy look upon his usually carefree features.

Oh, he was going to regret this.

Brennan O'Connell

a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor