( He's gonna have to pass on the rat and the blizzard. Bloodshed and ale, though... that one's familiar. Probably off the table considering Geralt could likely arm-wrestle Dean straight through the freaking floorboards — he might go hand-to-hand with a few roided-up demons, but none of those annoying bastards actually know how to fight. Enhanced strength only gets you so far if you don't know how to use it. Geralt does.
Color him impressed with the ingenuity here. Damn, Gerry. )
Alright. ( Agreeably; that one's just challenging enough to get real interesting real fast. ) But we're doing it with something a little stronger than beer.
( Because... frankly, Geralt could nail it thirty times and he'd still not wind up feeling anything. Defeats the whole purpose of a drinking game.
Give him about two seconds here — when he comes back, it's with two short glasses and a bottle of Jack. Shots are a little too much, he thinks, but sipping on something stronger's a good middle-man. He plunks the haul down on a small table a step or three behind them, then gives his knife a few contemplative little flips like he's absently assessing the weight of it.
Mostly, he's just fishing around for a decent conversation topic. Question for a question on the side is like one of those unwritten rules when it comes to stuff like this. )
So how'd you meet Jaskier?
( He flings the knife. It doesn't spin and it lands on black, but hot damn he can already tell he's gonna screw this up soon. )
no subject
Color him impressed with the ingenuity here. Damn, Gerry. )
Alright. ( Agreeably; that one's just challenging enough to get real interesting real fast. ) But we're doing it with something a little stronger than beer.
( Because... frankly, Geralt could nail it thirty times and he'd still not wind up feeling anything. Defeats the whole purpose of a drinking game.
Give him about two seconds here — when he comes back, it's with two short glasses and a bottle of Jack. Shots are a little too much, he thinks, but sipping on something stronger's a good middle-man. He plunks the haul down on a small table a step or three behind them, then gives his knife a few contemplative little flips like he's absently assessing the weight of it.
Mostly, he's just fishing around for a decent conversation topic. Question for a question on the side is like one of those unwritten rules when it comes to stuff like this. )
So how'd you meet Jaskier?
( He flings the knife. It doesn't spin and it lands on black, but hot damn he can already tell he's gonna screw this up soon. )