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

It was a quiet night, mostly. The warlock deep within his ship that was illuminated with light which cast a warm orange glow against the heavily varnished wooden walls. He had a hell hound at his feet and a heavy old book cracked open down the middle. He was studying the obscure page for longer than he should have a crease upon his brow, studying the same ancient words what many would call the devil's magic.. a magic he thought was never for him.. But to defeat a demon you must play by its rules. No matter the cost, that dark magic always demanded a price. Why did it bother him? Maybe because he wondered if the price was greater than the one he already paid? Impossible? Maybe.. Or not. Conflict entered his weary silvery blue eyes. He cleared his throat.. misused for several day. The alcohol within the bottle of Ireland's finest whiskey which helped wash the worries away, his long fingers wrapped around that glass as he studied the same line over and over. It required human sacrifice (even though it was tricky in its wording) and it required magic he could hardly comprehend. Fuck that. There had to be another way.. while he was not free from death upon his already stained hands in his life.. it was never easy.

His hair fully mused from his own hands, as seemed to be his permanent look lately. The stubble upon his jaw just a little more over grown than what he would have usually allowed, yet he hardly cared enough to change it. His silvery blue eyes looked a little harder these days, his heart feeling more like a burden than something he needed to live. The warlock absently scratched the surface of his inner forearm, shirt rolled up to expose where the demon's mark still marred his skin, exposed to the heated space around him that seemed to possess a chill as if in response to that book. He groaned as he leant back, listening to the sounds of lines clanging and sea water sloshing along the boats sides.

He was engrossed still searching for what seemed like another failed lifeline. It was exhausting, it was written across his face and yet still he soldiered on. He had little food ever in stock except for a few things he could easily shove in his mouth to keep him alive. Except... he had recently discovered this little app called ubereats. Where the food was delivered to you. It was fantastic to only have to click only a few buttons and a little while later... bam. Food. Could it get anymore convenient? How he had lived off of hunting strange creatures and foraging for whatever was edible.. that could sometimes make him so sick and weak for days. He hardly knew.

The memory felt distant even to him. His stomach growled at him as if to remind him he had neglected it again. When was the last time he ate? Was it breakfast? No. Did he even have breakfast? Fuck the whiskey was dulling his mind again. Or maybe it was the books he had been forced to mentally arm himself with that was the culprit. He needed to get out more. Maybe he would go to the pub tonight.. No.. Maybe tomorrow.. It wasn't healthy to be your own company even though he had been used to such an existence. Maybe a pretty little young thing at the pub might not be the worst thing... That meant he needed to clean the place up.. And shower.. And shave. When was the last time he got laid?

He ran his hands through his thick messy brown locks before he heard a knock. A knock? Who knocked on a boat? It was then followed by a male voice. This was enough to wake the sleeping, snoring slightly overweight devil dog to his paws. He skittered and slid to his massive paws, his movements far from graceful because of slumber, leaving Brennan to wonder how he had ever once been his protector. The abrupt change of that once serene quietude was jarringly disturbed.

"Oh, blimey calm your tits, Barney." The Irish warlock hissed with his accent as thick as the day he left.. All while the black hound's glamour rippled beneath his magic trained gaze. The hell hound looked ordinary due to the glamour of that collar, even as he barked his head off like a lunatic.

"I'm coming. I'm coming." He grumbled, having to nearly stumble his way past his murderous hound. "Its only the food you crazy beast. You would think you'd realize that by now.. " He muttered disapprovingly yet still a reserved fondness was already deeply woven had remained. He fully intended to share his meal with the dog as he had every day since he returned from that place he would rather not name.

His booted feet heavily climbed the steps, opening the door that lead into the cockpit. Barney followed closely at his companions heels, a warning growl upon his black lips. Brennan thought that the mutt would be used to the delivery people by now, but little seemed to calm his prickly demeanor with the exception of a pretty face of a young lass, not that he could blame him.

Brennan emerged looked out to where he heard the curse and a strange sharp burning smell over the thick misty sea air. Well this was a first. He stepped up to walk along the deck with a curious eye, Barney executing a guttural bark and yet... seemed almost wary from the abrasive scent of smoke. He rose his hand that grasped at the shroud, a line that held up the massive mast that towered over them. The young man stood upon that dock eyeing the meal and then the Irish warlock. A wide smile drew across the other man's face even as the packaging seemed to be on fire. The man then proceeded to give him what seemed like a prepared speech. The other delivery people just grumbled a few words and they were gone not a moment after. The warlock could hardly help that wry amusement draw upon his features, his lips twitched in what seemed like an almost smile.

"I do have to admit... this is.. Probably the hottest meal I have received." His accented words were equally wry as his expression while he studied the scruffy man for a moment as if considering... what fire proof place would be suitable. He rose his brow, the boat was wooden, the dock was wooden too. The only fire proof place was the water and he would rather like to eat his food not soggy.... Well.. preferably edible at this rate... if the fire hadn't consumed his food. Barney's seemingly feral growls could be heard as if barely contained enough to leap from where his paws were already placed on the cockpit seat. Brennan knew he would not attack without that specified sound from his lips but.. He still looked damn right demonic like his homeland.. Even though if he looked more like he was supposed to be a goodnatured mutt. Brennan supposed if he he had to eat he would need to... help choke out the flames. Hm.

He lept off the boat, with steady feet and onto the dock before envisioning his summoned item. One of those... metal plates with the domes on it. It came out a little comically larger than he intended, almost wider the width of his own shoulders. He did it seamlessly as though the act was entirely normal. Anything to keep his very flammable boat free from the flames. At least the dome would choke out the flames. He removed the lid with a calmness most didn't possess when fire was present. He opened the lid and offered the silver plate for the man to place before covering it.

"Does the Codfather always cook their meals on route?" He inquired, naturally. As if his meal wasn't ruined. "Seems to me like they need to give you uber eats employees a raise if thats the case. But if now.. How does fish and chips catch on fire in the first place?" He eyed the other man, noticing the faint crackle of magic imprinting upon the air. Warlock? Oh, that explained everything.

Brennan O'Connell

a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor