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

Perhaps now wasn't the time to admit what his canine companion was, the warlock content to call his beast a mere mutt.. A term in which his canine companion would have been highly offended by, if he understood. It was arguable just how sentient that creature was. After all, isn't that was that collar was supposed to do? To make the non-ordinary appear ordinary? Not that he felt BArney needed it. It was the rest of the world that had the problem. In a world that was so accustomed to seeing the unusual, they were often still closed to what they didn't understand. It was better this way. He was sure. Even still, it was like the delivery warlock seemed unconvinced as his blue eyes seemed to linger on his canine companion. That hesitation was obvious which made Brennan's gaze narrow curiously. Was that collar broken? Had the spell worn out? Hm? How he never considered the logistics of that spelled item nor did he seemed as worry as he should. Brennan simply accepted Serafina's word. After all, she knew what she was doing. This was exactly one of many reasons why he was a terrible warlock, even though the past months he had read boring book after boring book to learn anything that might aid in his... unusual predicament.. Fortunately, that the topic was willingly let go for now, along with Brennan's short attention span that seemed far more focused on salvaging what was left of his food.

It was then that the delivery man had requested something fireproof. How unprepared this chef and deliver guy in one was... This must have happened before? Brennan was almost reluctant to help, garnering far more enjoyment watching others simply figure it out themselves..... How much someone could learn from a little struggle. And yet the cost was surely too great. His own meal would be unsalvageable (if it wasn't already), even though it was arguable that it was here and now. His own nagging hunger ruled out the Irish warlock's typical antics. Brennan's face remained perfectly charming neutral, even despite the scruffiness of his appearance and the distinct scent of alcohol alluded to the contrary. In a manner that could be described as a lazy sluggishness, the heat proof container was summoned easily, those powers had become a natural part of his every day. However, his newfound, bike-chef extraordinaire seemed once again... unpreturbed. Not by his hellhound, not by the summoned silver, fireproof platter.. How Brennan was far more accustomed to those that were taken aback by such liberal usage of power. Was there anything that shocked the lad? Brennan almost stared at him intently, as if waiting for something, any kind of reaction and was disappointed when it never came.

It wasn't every day that he encountered another warlock, perhaps that was why he cut through the glamour, like himself.. Yet he could not deny that sudden need... to test the poor lad who lied with an ease that was impressive. How easy it was to poke holes in a lie the more elaborate it got. Not this one. The dirty blond's story didn't even waver an ounce nor did that confident demenour even as that tale grew more and more... ridiculous! An oven bike that cooked while he moved. Surely there was a better story to tell and yet he stuck to his guns, to the bitter end... just as Brennan would have.


Brennan could not help but laugh at the man's words, a rugged, a borderline sardonic sound and yet perhaps.... There was an oven on a bike somewhere (such a bike he was certain... shouldn't be left in these parts unattended). The young man seemed convincing as he described how that bike workd. "I suppose that makes sense." Brennan's markedly thick brogue accented voice only held a hint skepticism he felt toward his newfound guest. His alight silvery blue eyes narrowed once more on the man who continued that confident façade with a flawlessness that didn't break.

The contraption on that bike must have been magnificent, large... if it existed, which he was quite certain it didn't. He was quite sure it would have been clunky and loud. Like some steampunk contraption that would have garnered far too much attention. If such a bike existed, he would have been curious to see such a thing if only to see how it worked... and if he could replicate it. It would have been a rarity, which meant... expensive. Yet, Brennan hardly seemed willing to let up on the man and his outrageous tale. After all, lies were slippery, tangled things that could easily ensnare with little prodding.

Barney seemed entirely bored of the affair, the hound, once he realized the prospect of danger wasn't there nor the potential of eating any time soon... he flopped to the cushioned surface with a sign that looked like dramatic displeasure with a large groan. Like the world suddenly offended him with the exception of that cushion. Brennan offered the hound no more than a sideways glance before his delivery boy continued on, surely to talk himself into some hole he couldn't find a way out of. The Irish warlock turned wolfish. Now the other man must surely must be trying to swindle him. Especially when he admitted his acceptance of a slightly lesser review. Rather than a dreaded one-star that could seal the fate of a delivery man.

A wry chuckle soon erupted from his lips, questioning that flawed logic as he seemed to stammer over his words. Brennan wanted to examine his food, to ensure that it wasn't all burnt to a crisp. It seemed like a fair request.

His accent still thick as the day he left Ireland. "Aye, lad. That isn't a problem is it?" He rose a thick brown brow that wrinkled his forehead into deep lines. "Aren't you at least a little curious of your laborious efforts?" He added, gesturing toward the silver clouche idly, his body entirely relaxed.. Even considering there was a possibility he would not be able to eat until far later than he anticipated. Even despite the concern he could not hide that cloak-and-dagger smirk that his lips curled into even though his words seemed all but smooth and assured.. and completely natural. The truth of the matter would soon be revealed. Brennan was sure.


After all.. if his meal wasn't suitable for human consumption, couldn't he just whip up a meal with his magical bike of mystery? Where was it anyways? Brennan couldn't spot it, which means it was parked out of sight. Hm. There was only two options for the other warlock.. Agree.. and keep up that charade.. or come clean. Slippery little weasel. He hardly seemed to back down which meant he must have had something up his sleeve. It was an irresistible gamble he could not shy away from. Brennan could never turn down a good gamble. Hm. Now how was the irish warlock going to play this. He ran a hand through the several day long stubble that adorned his jaw as if considering that offer, putting his weight onto his favoured left leg.

Not a moment later. if its... inedible. You need to eat it. Every last bite.. and you can cook me a new meal." He took on a persuasive tone. Yet he didn't let the man get another word in before, raising a hand to silence him a mischief filled smile upon his lips.. No he was not done.

"Looks like your coming aboard mate. No one is eating on this dock when there is a perfectly usable table. Barney shouldn't bother you too much so long as... you don't intend to do something foolhardy like run or attack me." Vague words fell from his lips, even despite the smoke, he smelled food. Half salvageable food was still food in his books. He Lowered his gaze toward the man's shoes as if to make certain they weren't the scuffing kind. He wouldn't tolerate shoe vandalism on his precious April Rose. Brennan refused to lift a finger to bring the food as if waiting for the delivery boy to do just that. Just how badly did he want that money? He supposed he would soon find out. Although, Brennan suspected, badly enough.

Badly enough to work for that 12.50... or whatever it ended being with tip. What did people tip a jack of all trades? Yet it was always a curious thing, the lengths a man would go to keep up the lie. The irishman was clearly willing to push those typical limits. He waited near expectantly, gesturing out a hand to encourage the warlock to climb aboard. What could possibly go wrong?

Brennan O'Connell

a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor