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

The other warlock seemed to eye Brennan's floating home with a look that he got from most people. Land lovers that didn't have a true taste for the sea. But he was used to that look and yet the blond man seemed careful not to say much else. A tug of amusement spread across the delivery man's face regardless what he was thinking at the mention if Brennan was worried about pirates. Did he hear him correctly? Not him too. His hand rose to run through the rough stubble of his jaw as if considering it all the same. Even though he considered it ridiculous.
"Probably more concerned about demonic mermaids. They are mouthy little things. Pretty, sure. But they could bite a hand clean off or something else clean off." He rose a brow, as if he challenged the boy to question him. His silvery blue eyes shimmer with mirth and yet it was impossible to tell if he was truly joking with the serious way he spoke those words. His hand slid down, Brennan was the complete image of comfortable within his cushioned seat, legs parted in that all too confident stance to take up space he took. A king to his own castle. Albeit, small castle. He knew exactly where the delivery guy was going with that line of questioning. Pirates. Almost everyone suggested it. It was nothing new, only how he chose to approach it. It was case by case basis. Sure, he lived on a boat and had an accent. Sure, he often allowed for his scruff to grow a little too much, had left far too many buttons undone of that loose fitted shirt that allowed for a decent partial view of his chest, including the light smattering of hair he grew there. Like a real man (in his humble opinion).

Yet how he knew that if he was forced to wear an eye patch he would be doomed forever. Even though he already was. Sure, he looked a little rough around the edges, sea swept hair and his eyes haunted like a man who had been through enough. Yet he still personally did not see the correlation.. or maybe he was simply in denial... or just liked fucking with people. It was hard to tell what it was, especially when people were often blinded by their own quirks and Brennan was short on the self-reflection routine. He was unapologetically himself. Although, he suspected the real thing to blame were those god-awful movies.

Pirates of the Caribbean. It had to be that. Life had never been the same since those damn movies. Not that he'd actually watched them to know for sure, even though he was sure he was forced to see the first one.. but he was a little too drunk at the time and.... He was with a woman, unsurprisingly.... What was her name again?

However, it was easy to shift that line of questioning back toward the other warlock who kept spinning so many lies that it was impossible that he would not eventually got tangled within them. Every other word that spilled from his lips got increasingly worse that it was begging to get insulting.. Did he question his intelligence? It certainly felt that way. Yet the blonde warlock hardly seemed to care, being so blatantly called out. In fact, he seemed far calmer than Brennan would have given him credit for.

The irish warlock was soon met with a loose shrug and full grin as the delivery man finally admitted to his own lies, as if it was only because he was growing bored with them rather than actually being caught. He even went as far to say that Barney believed him, which was an insult to his hound. While he had caught him chasing his own tail once or twice, or licking his rear on more occasions than he could count... that same beast had saved his life more times than he could count. Brennan's eyes trailed the gesture of the other warlock's hand toward his beasty friend. He did not suspect the lad to pull a fast one on him after coming clean. Perhaps he had been out of the life for too long to so easily fall to the simplest trick in the book. He should have known that he was cleverly misdirecting him on purpose. The Irish warlock was no stranger to that very game himself, especially when he was a gangly boy.

The delivery boy spoke with a small smile playing across his lips before deciding to bring to light that he saw beyond those illusions. Maybe that spell didn't work on other witches, hm. Unruffled, Brennan barely shrugged his shoulders, there was no need to hide it anymore. He truly did not see the need for Barnebus to wear that illusion collar. Knowing damn well that if he had it his way that he would allow the beast to simply appear as he was.. Yet the panic and curious glances he received, perhaps it was better having that illusion in place. Perhaps it was far more simple this way. At least the guy wasn't running screaming, unphased. That is what Brennan would call the warlock across from him.

Perhaps if he admitted this, he would find out what actually happened to his food.. rather than a wee little bike oven burning it. Perhaps a truth for a truth. The blond man said he wouldn't be surprised if he was spewing flames. "I am surprised he didn't either. But his kind has one of the worst bites. You don't want to get bit, their mouths are full of bacteria that festers and will kill you in less than 48 hours if not treated. I have seen it. It's a terrible way to go." Brennan seemed less than perturbed. "Smart beasts, hellhounds are though. Most of the time. I wouldn't trust any of his kind.. but Barney boy, he is different. I almost prefer his ugly mug over that glamour any day." How surprisingly honest he was. A corner of his lips pulled into a one-sided smirk, knowing all to well that it was highly likely that he wouldn't believe a word.

Although the irish warlock eyed the man, still far more curious as to what he had said before. His claim that he could take his money if he wanted to. There was only one being who was close to doing so. In fact, the mere thought of the balls that this man thought he could almost seemed to spark a.... 'professional' interest in the Irishman. The scruffy warlock seemed more than willing to put on the show rather than rush to leave. Any impatience that might have lingered was either perfectly concealed or he simply had an infinite supply of time. The blond warlock leaned forward, right to be aware and cautious of Barney who seemed to watch with an unblinking fixated interest. The beast was always ready, holding a perpetual tension in his well-muscled body. Those oversized alert ears erect, concave to capture every sound that he turned them towards. They only occasionally twitched, which was the only movement he made besides the steady rise and fall of the canine's steady breath.

The blond warlock was right to be wary of him. Yet as long as Brennan didn't make that sharp unique whistle, the boy would keep his limbs attached to where they belonged. Brennan leaned forward, sitting up straighter to allow the man to reach him, watching every move he made without making it obvious before the other man pulled several bills from behind his ears. The perfect play of hand. Brennan didn't even catch him pulling out the bills to pull from his ear. Impressive. Brennan had to give him that. He raised a brow, cocked upward as he eyed the revealed bills. The other warlock did not need anymore prompting before taking a mock bow. Not many seemed to pack such confident presence even when called on the spot.

The Irishman was nothing but amused and it reflected in his words as he claimed it would be a hit with the ladies (a high compliment coming from him). Brennan leaned back once more, content to return to his comfortable seating position as he listened. A snort left him immediately when the deliveryman mentioned other witches. He noticed the true scowl that spread across the warlock's mug. Someone had a sore spot. "Aye, most are real pricks. Not exactly an inviting lot unless you are apart of their little club. I can't stand them for the most part. Nor am I one to follow their little rules anyways. I have met a fae though. Nice bloke. Very Italian. " His Irish brogue seemed to grow thicker with that more relaxed conversation, a smile tugged on his lips as he thought of the king that had yet to invite him back after their disastrous tea party.

Instead of elaborating, Brennan seemed content to flex his own magical muscles, using his power to influence gravity and the ability to psychically create with a mere thought of concentration. That seemed to get the delivery boy's attention. He even tried to add his own little flourish... But the scruffy blond seemed to far surpass him in that department. The boy was practically made for it. The glasses appeared first. Brennan deciding that Alcohol was something they apparently both needed, especially when he was quite certain he wasn't going to get his dinner. Brennan seemed all too aware of that flash of surprise and the words that drew from him that were silenced... before he tugged the whiskey bottle from the table below. Manipulating gravity in that unique way was still... a work in progress. The movements were jerky at best. As long as it didn't break, what did he care? It was one thing to make someone in a small surface area float... It was another to manipulate it and move it to him.. It oddly seemed easier making his boat float. He better not think of that or else the boat would soon soar like that bottle that he snatched midair before him. He wordlessly poured them a glass, all too smug with himself and his own progress with his powers. How certain he knew what the other man would say before he spoke them. He would settle for amazing.

Yet it would seem that was not the word the other had. Cheating. Then asking if he was using telekinesis.

He shoved a filled glass in his direction then took his own, the whiskey bottle now upon that table, grounded.

"Now, cheating isn't the word I was going for. I prefer the term resourceful. But to answer you... No it is not telekinesis. But I suppose you can say its similar.... less... controlled." That seemed about right. Although he supposed could have just called it as it was. Gravity fuckery.

The young warlock seemed to grab his drink then. How long had it been to share a drink like this out on his boat. Companionship these days appeared to be sparse. Saying nothing about it, Brennan seemed more than content to take a generous swig of his own drink before remembering that meal and their deal. Just because he enjoyed the male's company didn't mean that he let him off the hook. An all too knowing look crossed his weathered features as he went to reveal the food only to watch all the delivery man's hope go up in literal smoke... Food, right. As if one could call the charred remains that was tucked away inside food. It was inedible. That said a lot considering Brennan's low standards. He'd been forced to eat some of the most vile things just to survive. However, the blond seemed to claim it was perfectly edible. The younger warlock placed his cup back onto the wooden table, willing to back up his claim, plucking a singed black fry.. if one could even call it a fry, it barely resembled one..

Brennan felt a laugh form in his throat, mischievous amusement glittering in his own silvery blue eyes as the other warlock slowly brought it to his lips and with a scowl on his face that said all he needed to know. It tasted like grade A shite. A bellowing laugh escaped Brennan then... until the man swallowed that all too dry chunk of charcoal down. There is no way it went down well. The boy's words only made him laugh harder. Delightful.

When the laughter died, it still stained his words. "Well at least you are a man of your word." He was quite sure he would pay money for that show alone.. Then that question as to what actually happened to the food. The blond's defeat occurred already long ago surely he would simply tell him. The nameless delivery warlock chased down the ash in his mouth with that fine Irish whiskey before replying.

He lit it on fire. Wasn't that a little counterproductive for his job? How certain Brennan was that this man would not last in the business long if he was setting people's meals on fire. Although the true question remained unanswered.

"That explains its sad sight. but why, lad?" Although, in an instant the other warlock rose a hand only to summon flames. A dazzling ball of inferno emerged and tossed into the sky. How quickly that fire morphed into something but what? A moment later and it was clearly a bird.. a massive, mighty falcon firebird circled that ship. Now Brennan could not lie... he was paying attention even if slightly wary at how flammable a wooden sailboat was.

The fire from that bird seemed to reflect onto that boat. Well, that was certainly flashy. He hadn't even seen anything like it. Yet that flaming bird swooped down. Brennan immediately tensed, shooting forward from his relaxed position as if to yell at the man to stop, after all he had singed his food to a crisp. What would he do to his prized boat?

Barney mirrored his owner, immediately rising to his paws. What would those flames do his poor April rose!? No one fucked with his April Rose. No one. Not even a man he was beginning to... potentially like. The moment that the bird lowered to land on the teak wooden deck. Brennan was already prepared for action even though he was rigid as ever, There was no stopping this madman he invited on his boat! The menace suddenly had that fire creature suddenly transforming into a flaming wolf. But fire and wood were two things that did not mix. Especially with that thick coat of flammable varnish he was put on to protect it. Yet.. his boat didn't suddenly burst into flames.

The blond and fire wolf seemed to eye both Brennan and his own hound that released a menacing true growl that did not belong to any dog. His wicked teeth were exposed in threat at the sudden intruder within his territory. His tail with the arrowed spike at the tip rose in that dominant stature. Don't worry, they wont burn unless he wanted them to. Brennan could feel the heat alright. He believed him because the proof was already there and yet instinct told him that was fucking fire! "I was ready to damn well murder you boy." He still eyed the fire creature with a wariness, still untrusting of that destructive fire near his boat.

It took a moment longer for the uncomposed Brennan to settle a little even if he eyes that fire wolf. Curious gift. It looked so... real. While Brennan calmed, Barney didn't. In fact, the hellhound was all heckles raised, tensed and tall in all his impressive hellish glory. He opened his drooling maw to release out a bellow that caused his boat to vibrate and shimmy and the very water to ripple, along with the whisky in his glass. He had not heard that sound in a while. The other canine seemed far more curious even though his stature was dominant, his blazing nose reaching for Barney. Just in time for his hellhound to lunge at the fiery creature.

"Barney, NO." But it was too late, his beast of a canine was already fully ready to attack this perceived threat with all his might, clearly not caring that it was made of fire, or the fact not even... tangible to bury his wicked teeth into.

Brennan O'Connell

a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor