#witcher roche

Geralt - me

"This is stupid," Ciri muttered to herself, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, and exhaling. A faint huff left Roche's lips, making Ciri grimace as she turned to face him with a frown. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Roche said slyly, his gaze drifting away from her to take in the dimly lit room. The faint glow of the lit beeswax candles did little to make the ambience welcoming. "Given how overprotective Geralt is, I'm surprised he'd drag you somewhere like this."

"It beats hiding out in the brothels," Ciri remarked matter of factly, crossing her arms. "Y'know, if he catches you here, its both our necks on the line."

"Which is precisely why I waited until I knew he was out of town to come see you."

"Vern-"

"Don't."

He stepped forward, taking her right hand in his. His fingers gave a gentle squeeze as his gaze traveled up to meet hers, a warm smile curving his lips. For all their quips and banter, Roche had to admit, Ciri was beautiful when she was worried on his behalf. Even if the poor lighting didn’t do her any favors. Not that he’d ever say that aloud.

"If you keep fretting like this, it'll be the death of me."

Ciri froze as he bent forward and kissed the top of her hand. She felt a warmth rise to her face and gently removed her hand from his grasp and pulled away. "You're a fool."

"So I've been told," He said with a grin.

Ciri quietly regarded him, unable to leave his eyes alone. They held an exhaustion that was unfamiliar, almost as if she wasn't looking at Roche but a weary stranger.

"I'm beginning to sense you're not here for our usual pleasantries."

"Am I that obvious?"

Ciri nodded, smiling faintly. "I'm afraid you're losing your touch."

"I'll make a note of that," Before she could protest, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a long overdue embrace. The relieved sigh that left her body made Roche's heart ache as he buried his nose into her hair.

"You said I'm losing my touch," he murmured, "but at least I'm not losing yours."

"You'll never lose me," Ciri whispered. She nudged upward, feeling Roche's chin leave her head and met his gaze. "Now c'mon, out with it. What's going on?"

"Well I-"

"Quick, hide in the closet!"

"What?!"

Before he could react, Ciri yanked him forward. In a blur, Roche found himself stumbling, barely catching his breath before he was shoved into a tiny dark space. Instead of Ciri’s beautiful face, he was met with the sight of green mold creeping along a wooden door that had seen better days that made his body shudder involuntarily. Just as he opened his mouth to protest through the cracks, he heard the creak of the main door opening, followed by the heavy steps of Geralt.

Roche’s eyes widened. Hands clamping over his mouth, he went as still as a man facing down a viper.

Geralt let out a slow breath, rubbing grime and blood from his face. He barely acknowledged Ciri as he strode toward the table, grabbing the complimentary pitcher of water the innkeeper had left behind.

"Geralt," Ciri cleared her throat, furrowing her brows while she watched him drink straight from the pitcher, ignoring the cups entirely. She flinched when making eye contact with him. It was obvious he didn't want to talk about whatever happened, but that didn't stop her from trying.

"I take it the meeting didn't go as planned?"

"You have no idea," Geralt muttered, swallowing down a mix of water, blood, and spit. "We're safe for the night, but come sunrise we should leave. Be on the look out, have a weapon ready just in case."

Ciri stepped forward as he moved toward the entrance, confusion in her gaze. "Where are you going?"

"Intel," Geralt said curtly. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at her. His eyes darted to the closet for a fraction of a second before returning to her face. "And I'm giving you fifteen minutes to wrap up whatever is going on between you and your companion."

"There's no one-"

"Please," Geralt held up a hand, unimpressed. "Take me for a fool as often as you'd like, but I'm not an idiot."

His smirk was quick and fleeting, but Ciri caught it before he shut the door behind him, and even though she sighed in relief, she knew this wasn't over; already envisioning the verbal onslaught that was to come. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud, followed by a yelp as Roche unceremoniously tumbled out of the closet.

"I slipped," Roche said in his defense, holding out his arms in surrender.

"You sure did," Ciri placed her hands on her hips, raising a brow as she peered down at him, unimpressed. "He's going to kill you one day. Y'know that?"

Roche grinned up at her, admiring the view as he took in the way her lips were desperately trying not to smile back.

"But today," he said confidently. "is not that day."

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Ves: No, sir. But they left this message for you... *hands him a slip of paper*