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

It was easy to have a flawless record when a record did not exist in the first place. It was an easy thing to stretch the truth with the right audience and yet Brennan was suspicious right from the start. The warlock could not even hold back that hearty laughter that rumbled from him, causing his whole body to shake. His head tipped to the side almost imperceptibly to eye the other warlock with knowing eyes that have seen far more than most. How Brennan doubted that this warlock could pull the wool over his eyes and actually mug him, although he wondered if he suspected it too. Could the other man sense that he was so very adept with the sleight of hand. There wasn't a single being that had managed that one, except for the early days... and that one time. Oh, he refused to talk about 'that' time. The Irish warlock was more than willing to deny it until his dying breath. Brennan found nothing with messing with the young man as Brennan idly mentioned that he had a look about him although he didn't bother to elaborate, willing to keep its meaning to himself. Yet Sly seemed to eye himself as if searching for what the warlock had meant or perhaps it was only for show. Fit athleticism?

He wasn't wrong... In order to be a proficient runner, one must have possessed a certain level of fitness aptitude. "Something like that." The thick brogue of his Irish accent rang thickly as the day he left Ireland, a smile lingering in those three words. The pair of warlocks continued to eye each other in the wake of that moment, Brennan stuck in his own belief that he held all the figurative cards and had no problem in letting that cocksure nature exude from him with far more confidence than absolutely necessary. Somehow, it was all enough to convince the delivery man to up that wager upon that very meal he seemed so sure about. Brennan, certain that it was only a matter of time that the other man would eventually cave still somehow managed to hold his ground like he was cemented in place.

The pair drew onto the boat, Brennan more than content to watch the lad attempt to gain his sea legs as the ship happily and yet gently bobbed attached to that floating wooden dock. The sweet familiar noises of the water lapping at the sailboat's hull was a familiar and welcome sound to him. A comforting lullaby that only the sea could provide him. He was careful to put an end to the other warlock's snooping of that cabin below, there was far too much important information that he could not afford to be messed about. Those purposefully opened books held dangerous spells the piss poor warlock wasn't even sure he could execute. The topic of that research was hardly something he wished to explain at that current moment, uncaring how suspicious it sounded. It earned him a skeptical look. Ah, he could appreciate someone who knew not to pry... Which was certainly more than the women he had entertained.

Brennan unfolded the handmade polished lacquered wooden table, locking a latch in place underneath that made a firm place to place the domed serving dish. He finally gestured for the scruffy man to sit across from him. That question the man prompted caused a singular brow to raise. "It's weathertight below deck, if that's what you are asking.. But this bimini can certainly handle a wee bit of rain." He gestured to the folded waterproof fabric attached to two bendable but sturdy poles that it attached to on either side. "But I prefer to keep her open. I like a clear view of the sky and my surroundings." Perhaps he had become almost paranoid with the desperate need for a clear view. His guard never quite lowered since his return to the city while his curse and oath remained unfulfilled. How certain he was that those random demon attacks would very well always be a part of his life even though they seemed less frequent these days since the closing of that portal. While Sly made himself comfortable within that cushioned seat, Brennan all but flumped heavily into his own, across from him. His silvery blue eyes peered at the tray and while he could have easily opened the ruined remains of what was of his Fish and chips...he stalled. All but content to call out the other warlock, after finding a snag in his little web of lies. Impressive lies that would have most likely been undetected by most. But he was not most people. He practically wrote the book. A sly grin lit up the other man's face. Somehow, Brennan could not help but feel a certain level of respect for a good liar. After all, there were so very few that could remain so unflappable as he was. He barely seemed to lose his cool as he teasingly claimed that Barney had fallen for it. A dubious glace was offered toward the other warlock. "Is that so?"

Brennan's studious gaze flickered over to his loyal hound on cue. "But what makes you think Barney boy here is less gullible than me? I wouldn't let his appearance fool you.." With a careless shrug of his shoulders, he conveniently left the fact that Barney was near hopeless when it came to attractive women.

It was at that particular moment that the sandy blonde warlock then decided to provide an answer as to how he would take his money. Oh, he was all ears now! Even though he so badly wanted a stiff drink to soothe the ache of his hungry stomach.

Sly then reached forward, Brennan even leaned in to make the action easier, content to listen to his unanticipated company with a far too smug confident grin, full of robust bravado and remained upon his weathered features the whole time. He had to give it to the other warlock, he had a presence about him. Like he was born for the stage. He could tell the boy was rightfully wary of Barney who watched the interaction between the pair with an intense gaze that would make most think twice. Sly then leaned in across the table, although he seemed all too aware of the hound as if to make sure it wouldn't think his action was an attempt upon his master. If anyone could call himself a master over a hellhound. They could be as fickle as a woman when the mood struck.

Several bills seemingly materialized and were pulled from behind his ear.. Where did he pull that from? Seemed to consider. Brennan was sure that he would have caught him red-handed the moment his hand even so much as reached for his own pocket. He eyed the bills that the young warlock seemed to hold before his face for himself to examine. To be truthful, he had not even seen him pull out the money. Brennan seemed amused by his little parlour trick even though the bills seemed to conveniently vanish before his very eyes. The warlock didn't seem to feel the prickle of magic in the air, or had he missed it? The other warlock placed his hands before him with quite the confidence. "Not bad. Not bad at all." He considered for a moment if the man was a magician or a pickpocket... "I am sure it is a hit with the ladies. They love it when you can make things appear that weren't there before. Especially when you wave something that they want in their face." .... Right.. Money. Just like that... Brennan thought of two cups and he waved his hands with added flourish only to have them appear before him, levitating as he controlled the gravity around it. With another mere thought, he slowly lowered them to the table before him. Not even asking if Sly was even thirsty.

He twisted to look down below to call upon the already opened bottle of his single barreled Irish whiskey as he caused it to float toward it with a careful manipulation of his powers. It took a hell of a lot of time and concentration to master that particular skill. In only a quick moment or so he reached his hand and snatched it from the air before him, his silvery-blue eyes shimmered with unspoken mischief before he released the cap to pour himself and the delivery boy a hefty drink. An unspoken admittance that he seemed to like the lad.

Ah, the delivery boy seemed proud of himself, up until the final moment that Brennan lifted the lid and that black smoke spilled out of it in dark plumes before his eyes. Brennan waved his hands to disperse the smoke but the smell of burning still singed his nostrils. He looked down upon what was supposed to be his meal, only to find it.... Inedible. It was nothing but charred smoky remains of what was to be his fish and chips. How disappointing. The delivery man seemed to eye it, concealing any kind of guilt as he swiftly claimed that it was perfectly edible. Brennan pitched an eyebrow at him. Really?


"What do you even eat, my lad?! I would hate to see it if you truly think that is any more than burnt shite... I would be far more successful using it to write a letter than make a meal out of it. I am not that picky or hard to please either. You would be green to the gills if you knew what I have been forced to eat just to survive. But help yourself, by all means." He gestured toward the sad, burnt meal (if one could call it that), oddly unperturbed by the entire ordeal, almost far more curious if the man would actually eat it. Instead, Brennan considered if he would have to order another meal to replace the other one.

Perhaps he should have him fish for his dinner. Brennan casually leaned back, plucking his glass of whiskey from the table, as if willing to keep the money hostage until he was fully satisfied... whatever that one, the Irish man hardly seemed to know.

"How did it happen? The demise of my meal. Try the truth this time, lad." He frowned, eyes observing with a heavier stare. It was a pity that food was not going to fill his hungry stomach, the man possessed very little food in his fridge below. It would seem a liquid dinner tonight would have to be enough to satisfy him... Not that it would be the first time nor the last.

Brennan O'Connell

a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor