The moment the raven-haired beauty fires back at him, Brenden can't help but raise his brows in the slightest fashion. She was... interesting to say the least. The woman hardly seemed afraid of him, though, he never intended to make people fear him, he just tended to be more intimidating with that gruff demeanor. Yet, this woman was challenging him and it took all his might to not work her into submission. Instead, he merely clenches his jaw and provides her a shrug, "Normal is whatever you want it to be," he says, those deep tenors filling the silence. Meeting her gaze, he notes the peculiar violet hue to them, rather interesting, something he hadn't seen before and he had an urge to paint that challenging stare. Why? Brenden hardly had a clue, perhaps it was the first time a woman decided to demand something from him, perhaps he was just far too tired and it was a lack of sleep that was pushing him to do things he normally wouldn't do. It was far too late for him to kick her out now.

Allowing his affinity to fill his body, he reaches mentally for that paper and pen as it drifts through the air with a purpose, before it arrives at his shoulder and he snatches them both out of the air and setting it down on the desk. The cursing woman, Harley, looks at him wide eyed, questions seemingly to run rampant through that pretty little head of hers. Brenden merely blinks at her, hardly offering an explanation. She was living in a city that was full of weres, vampires and witches and she had never seen magic? How... interesting. Though, Brenden hardly questions it, instead, he gestures for her to move around the desk to take a seat, the man merely standing there as he folds his arms. Not quite hovering... but he was watching. Allowing her ten minutes, he didn't expect the sarcasm to drip from her lips as she takes a seat and the man has an urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, yet, he tucks that emotion deep inside of him. Instead, he merely offers her a slight frown as she picks up that pen.

He could see Harley trying to search his features, trying to tease out of he were joking and when she doesn't find anything, she turns back around. Whether she was thinking about what to draw or something else, her time had started and Brenden hardly had any intentions to move from his spot next to her, her body so close he could shift his arm and brush he shoulder if he wanted to. Part of the warlock wanted to make the items on the desk dance around her head simply because he could. If she couldn't work with his affinity then she wasn't going to work here. The man used it much in his day to day life simply because he had it, not because he relied on it as a necessity.

Brenden is drawn out of his thoughts the moment Harley's demeanor shifts, her features shifting into that of concentration, a frown tugging at her own lips. That confidence still remains and yet, it was better suited to her. He watches her hand trace the paper, taking her time and he can see the skill she has hidden behind that over confident facade of hers. Maybe he would hire her... and then gag her so he didn't have to listen to her speak. The thought amuses him but Brenden pushes it away as he continues to watch her. What she begins to create has Brenden frowning. It wasn't because she wasn't good... no, it was simply because this woman truly thought of him as a magician, that his affinity was some cheap parlor trick. Surprisingly, Harley finishes her sketch in a span of ten minutes, the man hardly having to tell her time's up before she's turning around and thrusting that paper at him. Steel faced, he unfolds his arms and takes that paper from her, inspecting it with a rather aloof manner, before he looks down at the woman still seated. Merely giving her a shrug, "You're a strange human," he says before handing her back that paper.

7:48PM

"You live in this city and you act like you've never seen magic before," he rumbles, perhaps the most he's spoken to her since she walked through that door. "Maybe you haven't. However, if you work here, I recommend you getting used to it," his eyes narrow down at her. She was a decent artist, probably rather talented if he gave her the time to actually come up with something and let those creative juices do their work. "If you can handle that and decide to stay there are a few rules, my office is off limits, the door leading downstairs is off limits, no after hours guest are allowed in the shop without my permission and stealing will not be tolerated," his gaze narrows in on her as he lists off his house rules, his stare hard before he finally extends a hand towards her, to one, help her up from the chair and two, to shake her much smaller hand, "My name's Brenden."