Brennan rose a singular pointed brow in response to the man's declaration that animals simply didn't like him. "I can't say they dont like me much either, except for Barney. He got me through some rough times.. Cats.. on the other hand.. Act like a woman scorned.." He was never an animal guy. Perhaps another reason why he was so prickly toward Zach. That amongst a slew of other reasons. Cats though, they were the worst of them They had that unpredictable look in their eyes like the demons the seeked to murder him in cold blood. To what end if they had succeeded? Who knew what kind of terror they were unleashing on the poor citizens of Sacrosanct if they weren't sniffing him out. The warlock's shoulders rose and fell in a quick shrug as that conversation shifted to the man's species and their proneness to nakedness.
The half-man partially submerged within the salt water was struck with another wave, perhaps an act of karma itself for fucking with his boat. One of the greatest of all acts in his opinion. Yeah, like fate would ever show Brennan any semblance of kindness. It was no surprise that the warlock was doomed to be forever cursed in this life and undoubtedly the next one if that hell dimension was any indication of what waited for him. Brennan was oblivious to the shiver that struck his companion from that wave. His own dark brows stitched together in a frown at the thought.. Never one to brood for long, he soon cast it aside. Brooding did nothing but bring on the misery. That shit could mess with your head if you let it.
Regardless of how cold Zach felt, he hardly let it bring him down, the sheepish grin drew upon the other man's lips. That smile the Were wore rarely faltered. Even as he complained he couldn't very well strut his naked self into any store and demand clothes. The thought of it seemed to flash a look of amusement upon the roguish warlock's features. Now that was something Brennan wouldn't mind watching go down. "Aye..then perhaps you have found yourself in quite the predicament." That sarcasm easily uttered clear that he had no intention to do anything about it, at least not yet. It was the first thought that entered his mind, how he could help him with just that. Yet, he hardly offered his assistance. No. He wanted the whale... gone so he could enjoy his sail in peace. At least until he made that sexualized comment that took Brennan entirely off guard. The laughter tore from his chest, unable to remember a time when he had genuinely laughed like that.
It was almost cruel to summon that shirt in front of him with no means of helping the man. Yet... Brennan was cold, far less cold than the near chattering man in the ocean. At least the Irish warlock could at least do something about it. It was at his fingertips. He had grown so... reliant and accustomed upon those summoning powers that he did not expect quite the reaction he received from Willy. It came as easy to him as breathing on the mundane, usual shit. Somehow that display translated as an invitation to draw closer to the backside of April Rose. An act that went completely unnoticed by the Irish warlock. "Perks of being a warlock." Those accented lilted words added cryptically in response to the sudden interrogation.
It was the mention of a copy. Of a human that seemed to prompt a thought. "For a price, I'd make just about anything. But I draw the line at the living. Besides, I don't think my powers work that way." Somehow, the thought of making a copy of April Rose seemed just as much a sin! Not after all his blood, sweat and tears were infused in every panel of wood.. He might have summoned the wood itself to craft her, the tools used, the nails and whatever else he needed in her construction but its assembly was all him. He knew every inch of that boat, there was not a place his hands hadn't known. You can't duplicate that. Not truly. At least in Brennan's mind. If he had simply summoned it into existence, it would never be the same. He was sure. Somethings were better the old fashion way.
Willy's excitement and his nearness seemed to prompt Barney into almost immediate action, that threatening warning growl rumbled from deep within the canines chest, ready to defend boat and master in but a moment's notice. Brennan however, hardly seemed concerned with the flash of dominance from his hellhound even though Willy childishly stuck out his tongue to the mutt as if to piss him off more. Really?
Sure the overly exuberant Zach talked.... A lot, barely remaining still for a full cycle of breath as he swam too and fro like a kid on some kind of sugar high. Perhaps it was in a moment of weakness the roguish warlock decided to offer him a hand, in the figurative sense. The reasons were entirely obscure at best. Whether it was King Dorian's somewhat recent act of kindness or the simple fact that he had made him laugh he never knew. He knew the moment he had agreed he was going to regret that decision. Brennan raked a hand through the rich mahogany locks before listing off his list of demands.
His ship. His rules.
Calling off the vicious hellhound, he cleared the way to allow the man some time to to figure his way onto the boat. Brennan watched on with a flicker of amusement for a moment to watch him struggle, perhaps cruel not to mention the ladder that swung down from a compartment at the back. The solid black canine found a spot, his spot, on one of the cushions of the seating that lined either side of the cockpit. Barney seemed content enough to lay down but not without a wary, protective eye upon the intruder, something akin to hunger lurked within the dog's deceptively soft brown eyes. He wondered if this glamour was Serafina's wicked sense of humour at work. Brennan moved to toss his own wet clothing he had stripped earlier and tossed it haphazardly down and off to the side at the base of the steps within the hull of the ship to deal with it later. The warlock by no means a neat freak but he kept an orderly ship after all.
Brennan turned from Willy who attempted to do an admirable job keeping his willy to himself. Good, at least the man followed direction. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. Brennan took that opportunity to sort out the tangle of ropes he had abandoned to deal with the initial whale assault. It was suddenly the laughter that drew Brennan's steely gaze once more to his newfound passenger. So he saw the hoodie. "I thought it fitting.." He peered over his shoulder, his lips quirked into a roguish grin as his eyes flash mischief at the very sight of ridiculousness of that clothing upon his newfound... "companion" (he just didn't know it yet).
Willy went on to explain that idea he had tried to convince of his sister. Brennan considered that idea for a moment. "You might be onto something there, you might be able to put seaworld out of business. Can't say it would be the worst thing in the world. A cage is no place for any living thing." He added offhandedly. Of course the warlock would find some sense within the idea, he was not the only one willing to exploit his gifts for profit. "I am damn sure people would pay top dollar to see a merman too." He added mischievously, noticing zach just about to toss the damp towel to the teak flooring. Oh no he did not! Brennan spun on a heel and stepped forward, arm outstretched in clear indication that he expected that towel to find his waiting palm so he could discard it in the same place as his own wet shirt.
The other man then went on to ask if he could drive! Like Brennan would allow just anyone drive his ship! "If you can't even name the parts of a boat, there is no way I am letting you...." His words trailed off as he recognized that sick look upon that drew upon the were-orac's face, he was looking kind of pale and his jaw grew a little slack.
Really? A whale that's seasick? Now he was certain that had to be some kind of first. It wasn't even THAT choppy out. An exaggerated groan left the warlock as his silvery blue eyes point out toward the horizon, where land dwelled. Willy drew to the floor. The worst damn place to sit.
"Dammit mate.. Of course you'd be a while that gets seasickness. The floor is the last place you want to be. Sit on the cushioned seat.. and just... look out at the horizon, follow the cityline with your eyes. If you have to, go off the side of the boat.. If you throw up on here, I'm tossing you off.." He advised sharply, at the very least he was being helpful.
Brennan then moved toward the lines to tighten those burgundy sails once more that flapped audibly within the wind, he reached for his handy winch drawing the lines until they were taut and in position. He maneuvered that ship with an effortless ease, this was his domain after all. He drew the tip of his finger toward his mouth so it was slick as he lifted that dampened finger to feel the breeze. The position of the wind had changed course slightly..
"You'll feel better when we get moving." Was the only reassurance he offered the man, hoping damn well that it was the truth.
He stood behind the large wooden helm of his ship with every ounce of confidence as a true captain, he felt that familiar feel of the varnished wooden wheel within his palms as he shifted the boat's course. The fresh sea air slapped across his weather and battle worn face. It whipped about his far too long locks from his forehead.
The sun was always prettiest when it set. That time was fast approaching, the ocean glittered beneath the late afternoon sun as that light also played upon his features. That faded scar upon his cheek was visible from that illumination just above the 4 day scruff that ran along his jaw.
Brennan looked out over the sea to calculate the best route to return back to his lonely dock by the beach. Barney seemed eager for that sail home, his tail wagged in clear anticipation. Who would have thought hellhounds enjoyed the ocean as much as he did. The black beast enjoyed the sensation of the wind against his fur as the boom shifted... the once limp sails filled with wind. It was a sight that filled some deep part of his soul.. Well, whatever was left of it. It was open for debate. In a moment, the large boat was moving, speedily through the waves that sloshed audibly against the boat's sturdy side.
"The steering wheel thingy... as you called it.. Is called a helm. The left side of the ship is called.... The port side.. And the starboard side is the right. I can't sail head first into the wind or else we will not get any momentum, so I will sail a zigzag pattern back to my dock. " He informed, sure that Willy was hardly expecting the lesson. It had been a long time since he tried to explain that boat to anyone. No one seemed to possess much of an interest besides it was a pretty boat that floated. Perhaps he would damn himself to hell all over agin... if he had to hear someone call a helm a steering wheel thingy.. again.
a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor