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

The sandy blond delivery boy seemed to eye Barney peculiarly.. like he could see the large beast beyond the glamour. Did he? Or was he acting like any average bloke with self-preservation, wary of a crazed, pissed off big black dock. Brennan couldn't help but wonder and yet he said nothing of it. That question seemed odd.. like he might have seen something he shouldn't have. Brennan casually shrugged his shoulders in a fashion that was almost dismissive, as if he was hardly phased by the question. If that glamour was slipping.... Then he was certain to get a lot more than questions... in the near future. Which was not something he wanted to deal with. In fact, any kind of inconvenience he would prefer not to deal with. "It's a mutt." He offered, like that explained everything and yet how far from the truth it was! Barney's blazing, intensely menacing stare hardly faltered, only having eyes for the blond warlock with an intensity that would make any sane being a little on edge.

However, there was a more pressing issue than his so-called dog. It was that food. He was hungry, he'd barely had any lunch... unless whiskey counted. Brennan easily leapt off his boat, landed with a hefty thud on the worn wooden dock before conjuring exactly what he'd asked for. Something that wasn't going to catch fire.

Most people had a bit to say when he used his powers around them. This man seemed to take it with a certain stride. Then again the city was full it and considering his line of work, he'd probably seen a lot himself. The city was lined with magic, bombarded with it, if a being only opened their eyes. It was strange to see it so out in the open.. Brennan usually choosing to be.... Mostly discreet when it came to his powers. But why not let it all out.. Supernatural lives matter. He thought of that very poster someone graffitied on one of the walls of a nondescript building in the western district. Activists of all kinds filled that city... The bored being looking for their next cause, even if it meant making one up that was hardly necessary. Yet in front of the other man, a warlock, judging by the familiar stain of magic that clung to him... he was like him.

Regardless, Brennan was far more interested in seeing what he conjured. It was impossible to know just how his brain would pull those objects from what appeared like thin air, especially him if he didn't focus. After all, he made what only his mind's eye could see. The better he focused and imagined each blemish and texture... every single minute detail... the better it was. It was harder than it looked. One that he had countless time to perfect, to utilize to his own benefit. It was amazing how much time someone had when they were stranded in the middle of some nowhere hell dimension... with little resources. One could not blame him, even if that comically oversized, dome-like metal plate was hardly perfect in the literal 'heat' of that moment. Otherwise, it looked good enough, like right out of those fancy movies where the waiter brings forth a fancy meal.. Why not? Even if it was a bit much for fish and chips, even Brennan had to admit. The food was placed onto it and placed to the side... to smother those red-hot embers.

Well, his powers were convenient.. with the exception of food. That never really worked out according to plan. No matter how hard he tried. It took way too much juice... and left him feeling depleted. To make food.. meant to create life.. which was near god-like powers he was hardly able to tap into. His mortal lifespan... would likely ensure he never got close. But what a thought... if he could make food... could he make the living cow it came from? Was it even truly a living creature if he'd made it? Could he make himself a partner? A woman conjured from his darkest, wildest of dreams. .... How tempting it seemed... and yet how dangerous it was to tamper with such things. Even he knew it wouldn't be without cost. Inanimate objects... were a far safer bet. Far simpler. Food... would have to be done the old school way, and it possessed actual flavour. Well.. with the minor exception for alcohol.. he was quite good at summoning that, which was more than enough for him. The Irish warlock then questioned the delivery man... more in jest rather than anything else.. far more interested how his meal could catch on fire in the first place. How quickly the other warlock seemed to take his own words and run with it... and run... and then run some more. Did he realize how ridiculous he sounded?

The sandy blond claimed... cooking on his little bike oven machine added to the freshness. Well, that was one way to look at it.
Seemed like a whole lot of a shite if he ever heard it and he had heard a lot in his life.

Ever heard of that saying not to bullshit a bullshiter? How the Irish warlock was on to him and yet... he was quite sure that the lad across from him knew it too. He had to.. The other warlock looked like he had enough wits to figure that one out. Brennan's silvery blue eyes fell upon the man, studying his face for a moment. Oh, he had a look about him. A swindler. Like himself. Although, Brennan was quite certain that he, himself was better at concealing it. The amusement that formed across his own roguish features never even faltered... even at the cost of his meal. Which he had to admit was the most entertainment he'd had in some time. There was little harm to at least see how far the young man was willing to go.. to carry out his lies. Once the other warlock explained his ridiculous story.. Brennan rose a brow... arms now folded across his chest. Did the boy not realize the more he talked... the more he incriminated himself?? "Not at all a hazard to public safety." His accented words were laced with derision. Like Brennan could give a rat's ass about public safety, well maybe a little bit. "Hey whatever works.. I don't really care how it's made, only that... its edible." Although Brennan's definition of edible was certainly questionable to begin with. "I have my doubts. You can understand my concern, right lad?"

Yet Brennan had to give it to him, the delivery man lied well, even though he could see right through it. The question about how his food caught fire was a practical question, a seemingly innocent question. Even though it was nothing short of obvious that the Irish man was was clearly toying with him. Brennan's gaze betrayed nothing of his know how.. The other man scratched the back of his neck, which only made him look all the more guilty... The dark-haired warlock had to give it to him, the boy kept his cool and even better, he seemed to cling to his original lie. But they all slipped up.. always.. even if it was just a little bit at first. But on appearances alone, it would seem... he would sink upon his lying ship to the bottoms of the ocean.

The blond then rambled on about pizza bags.. meant to keep pizza warm. Offer a truth and allow the other persons mind to fill in the blanks.. smart. "Aye, I know the kind." He nodded, giving the man a bone. But wasn't that simply an insulated bag? Not a tool used to actually cook food, he was certain. Yet Brennan said nothing else, allowing Sly to continue his brave and amusing tirade, down a long road to self-destruction. He did not expect to hear about a little oven a bicycle to cook the fish and chips while he rode! A tiny little oven? Did he hear himself? How Brennan's hearty laugh didn't escape him then he hardly knew.

"A wee little bike and a wee little oven.. and your over powered legs caught my meal on fire? Better call you speedy then." A wry expression overtook the warlocks lightly, scarred face. It sounded environmentally friendly, how the green party would love that. "I got a little more than I bargained for." He added. Yes, way more than he bargained for. A scorched serving of fish and chips and side of bullshit for free! His lips quirked on one side, his silvery blue eyes waiting for the other man to slip up... and yet... to the bitter end he kept it all together.

Barney was still whining... growling, going practically savage at the intruder... How one word from Brennan would have unleashed the relentless, murderous hellhound. Yet he obeyed, astutely to Brennan's command. Remaining upon the boat even though all he wanted to do try a little taste of delivery boy. It shone obviously within the canine's eyes before the dog released a dramatic whine and flopped out onto the seat, giving the pair of men his back in a melodramatic display of... disapproval of some kind.

Brennan cast is canine companion a singular look before returning it to the bloke who was... grasping at straws, he was sure. He had to give it to him. He had pretty good delivery and yet... if the tiny oven on his tiny bicycle wasn't enough.... he blew himself right then and there by outwardly saying he would accept less.. That was the nail in his coffin. A rumble of a chuckle escaped the warlock with thoroughly mused hair. "Sounds like the confession of a guilty man.. Why accept less when you went through all that trouble and nearly caught fire yourself... Why don't we assess that damage first, hm? Then we can... negotiate... your.. fate.. I mean.. ratings." There was something unmistakably devious within those very words.

"At least if its... unsalvageable you can just cook me up another on that nifty little bike of yours." A lot of effort for twelve fifty plus tip. "I bet it's almost like magic." He emphasized the word, curious if he would see that flash of recognition or something to allude to his own guilt. It was only a matter of time before he sang like a bird...

Brennan O'Connell

a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor