The only open chair is next to Eskel and Jaskier drops into it easy as you please, and when he looks up at Eskel-- because Eskel's fucking huge, everybody has to look up at him-- there's this appraising sort of look in his eyes that Geralt doesn't know what to make of. Like the way those girls down at the farmers' market sometimes look at him, and-- oh. Right. He did know that about Jaskier, didn't he? From all the Instagram posts.
He doesn't know how he feels about it, at first, and then decides that he doesn't feel any way about it. Both Eskel and Jaskier are grown-ass adults who can do whatever they want.
Jaskier pegs Lambert as the youngest of the brothers right away, which is hardly a trial considering how he acts on a regular basis and the fact that he's a good five or six years younger than both Geralt and Eskel. Still looks a little younger than his brothers, when he's not scowling and looking pissy.
"Fuck you, it takes one to know one," Lambert says, but there isn't any heat to it. More amused than annoyed by Jaskier's enthusiasm.
He already knows that Geralt is in the middle, so picking out Eskel as the oldest is just process of elimination. Jaskier puts his hand on his bicep, which is approximately the size of the musician's head, and Geralt does not look at it; focuses somewhere into the middle distance, past the two of them. His face is the same neutral expression that it always is, the one that Lambert hates because it's the social equivalent of a brick wall. Jaskier's hand is still on Eskel's arm, and Eskel lets it stay there. Geralt's face stays neutral.
Jaskier continues prattling on about his observations about their family, talking his way through the sudden realization that two biologically-related siblings can't be less than nine months apart without being twins or not having the same mother. That's the first thing that he guesses-- that they're half-brothers, which isn't surprising considering that the two of them have similar features. Used to get mistaken for related more when they were younger, before Eskel got the scars on his face and Geralt went prematurely gray. Jaskier realizes that the whole line of speculation's pretty rude, though, and tries to backtrack it, apologize. Eskel gives him one of those fucking smiles that everybody melts for and it makes something burn in Geralt's gut. He drinks his beer and that does absolutely nothing to calm it.
"Adopted. All three of us are," he says, putting Jaskier out of his foot-in-mouth misery. "Our foster dad kept us."
"Big fuckin' mistake," Lambert says. "But the old man can't return us now."
"Rather be adopted than share your fucked up genes anyway, Lamb," Geralt says, and this is such old shit that they've given each other over the years that Lambert doesn't even get properly mad about it, just elbows him in the shoulder and tells him to fuck off.
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He doesn't know how he feels about it, at first, and then decides that he doesn't feel any way about it. Both Eskel and Jaskier are grown-ass adults who can do whatever they want.
Jaskier pegs Lambert as the youngest of the brothers right away, which is hardly a trial considering how he acts on a regular basis and the fact that he's a good five or six years younger than both Geralt and Eskel. Still looks a little younger than his brothers, when he's not scowling and looking pissy.
"Fuck you, it takes one to know one," Lambert says, but there isn't any heat to it. More amused than annoyed by Jaskier's enthusiasm.
He already knows that Geralt is in the middle, so picking out Eskel as the oldest is just process of elimination. Jaskier puts his hand on his bicep, which is approximately the size of the musician's head, and Geralt does not look at it; focuses somewhere into the middle distance, past the two of them. His face is the same neutral expression that it always is, the one that Lambert hates because it's the social equivalent of a brick wall. Jaskier's hand is still on Eskel's arm, and Eskel lets it stay there. Geralt's face stays neutral.
Jaskier continues prattling on about his observations about their family, talking his way through the sudden realization that two biologically-related siblings can't be less than nine months apart without being twins or not having the same mother. That's the first thing that he guesses-- that they're half-brothers, which isn't surprising considering that the two of them have similar features. Used to get mistaken for related more when they were younger, before Eskel got the scars on his face and Geralt went prematurely gray. Jaskier realizes that the whole line of speculation's pretty rude, though, and tries to backtrack it, apologize. Eskel gives him one of those fucking smiles that everybody melts for and it makes something burn in Geralt's gut. He drinks his beer and that does absolutely nothing to calm it.
"Adopted. All three of us are," he says, putting Jaskier out of his foot-in-mouth misery. "Our foster dad kept us."
"Big fuckin' mistake," Lambert says. "But the old man can't return us now."
"Rather be adopted than share your fucked up genes anyway, Lamb," Geralt says, and this is such old shit that they've given each other over the years that Lambert doesn't even get properly mad about it, just elbows him in the shoulder and tells him to fuck off.