Adjusting the bag of groceries on her hip while pushing the cabin’s door open, Jean can’t help the snort of a laugh as Geralt so eloquently calls one of the local men a mud-caked pig. Setting the canvas bag down on a sagging table occupying the larger majority of her kitchen Jean pulls her hair back into a loose bun as her eyes scan the space.
❛ Do you have to be anywhere for maybe the next day? I’d enjoy the company for a little while if you’re not too terribly busy. ❛ A small warm smile colors the druid’s face as she starts to sort through the provisions that they’d picked up at the market. Not to mention she’d like someone to be a taste tester for the newest batch of meads and wine, which had been fermenting away in the cellar. Who better than the local witcher?
meandering perhaps a step behind the whole time ; is it any wonder he’s slow to catch the door to hold for jean, as any man worth his salt should ? she’s kind and warm with him. so much so that he’s often distracted by it but following is so easy, he’s almost obedient. such a notion should probably feel unnatural - geralt being a witcher and all - but, with jean, things fall into place just so. very naturally. sharp and barbed tongue is now resting behind his teeth, however, and he smiles as he comes to stand by her this time, turning so his haunches rest against the edge of the table with its dipping middle.
❝ hmm, well, there’s always coin to be made somewhere but if you don’t mind what anyone will say, then i’d enjoy some company too. even just for one night. ❞ loneliness seeps into his bones sometimes, even with roach, but admitting that to jean isn’t difficult. not like it is with so many others. geralt pushes away and moves to remove his swords. while bending to prop them in the corner, he looks back. ❝ is that why you were buying so much ? do you think i need fattening up ? ❞
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