As they wait for the elevator, Jaskier expresses some significant ire at... a tabby cat, a sweetly plump little orange thing that saunters her way down from the stairs to inspect the musician and, presumably, the newcomer. Geralt has a barn cat or two that hangs around on the ranch, attracted probably by the shelter of the hayloft and the fact that Geralt leaves food out for them. He has an idea of how these kind of animals operate, and when she approaches, he just doesn't even look at her. He just lets her do as she pleases, and his lack of staring is as good as an invitation for her to rub her head all over his ankles. Once she's gone and acquainted herself with his shoes, he reaches down to let her sniff at his fingers and then lets her bunt her cheeks against his hand. Quite a sweet thing, really. She follows them when he walks into the elevator, and as they go up, he crouches down to give her a good scratch along her back, ignoring Jaskier's envious glare.
The cat wanders off when the elevator doors open, and Geralt follows Jaskier to the door of his apartment. When he opens it up and lets them inside, he spreads his arms dramatically to encompass the whole space and Geralt is a little surprised at how spacious his living space is. He toes off his boots and just wears his socks inside; it'd be rude to wear his heavy motorcycle boots on these nice wood floors, anyway. Even Geralt knows that, Vesemir didn't raise a boy who drags dirt onto clean floors.
The floor plan is pretty open, with the kitchen only separated from the main living area by a breakfast counter, and it appears that Jaskier spends the majority of his time sitting near the coffee table on a cushion. At least, the coffee table is the messiest part of the apartment, covered by discarded music paper and a few dirty dishes. He could picture the musician sitting there, perched on his worn pillow, plucking at a guitar and scribbling notes down on a piece of paper as he tries to figure out his next song.
Geralt follows Jaskier through the lightning tour, enough to give him an idea of the basic layout of the place. He declines the offer of clothes-- he doesn't plan on being here overnight, after all, just long enough to get Jaskier settled in and make sure that he won't have another panic attack or drink himself into a stupor or something. The musician leaves his guitar in his studio and then goes to wash off all of that ridiculous body paint and change into something practical, and Geralt is left to his own devices in his apartment.
"Hm."
He kills a few minutes looking at the bookshelves and little trinkets and some awards that look like they were given out by YouTube for having a certain amount of followers. Apparently he has quite a lot of them? That must translate to some pretty decent earnings, because unless Jaskier's a trust fund baby and paying his way with that, doing live gigs at bars couldn't possibly pay enough to keep this kind of apartment. Once he'd gotten tired look at those, though, he wanders into the kitchen and pops open the fridge just to see what kids these days are stocking up with. He's not sure what he expects-- quinoa and oat milk and all that vegan fad diet stuff? Expensive hipster artisanal food and exotic produce? Empty shelves because Jaskier doesn't have his life together?
Mostly normal, he finds when he opens the fridge door. Crisper drawer might be a bit empty, he could use more vegetables. And there's a plate of what looks like cookies and brownies, and Geralt remembers the slightly odd-shaped fruit ones from Jaskier's Instagram pictures. He hadn't put the brownies onto Instagram, though, which seems strange because they look pretty nice, possibly nicer than the slightly wonky cookies. Geralt takes one of them and considers grabbing a beer, but since he'll be driving home relatively soon, he abstains.
Jaskier takes long showers. Geralt eats the brownie and looks out the sliding glass doors that lead onto his balcony; it's not a bad view of the city, if you like that kind of thing. He's still alone by the time he finishes his treat, and fetches another from the fridge-- they're good, and a couple of brownies won't ruin his diet. He wonders if Jaskier actually made them while he debates a third, but... no. He shouldn't eat all of the musician's brownies, that would be shitty of him.
By the time Jaskier emerges from his shower, clean and dressed normally, Geralt has finished his snack and has made himself somewhat comfortable-- he's taken off his leather jacket, at least, and is fielding a few texts from Eskel about how Jaskier's doing. It's not surprising, really-- Eskel's always been the type to want to take care of people.
no subject
The cat wanders off when the elevator doors open, and Geralt follows Jaskier to the door of his apartment. When he opens it up and lets them inside, he spreads his arms dramatically to encompass the whole space and Geralt is a little surprised at how spacious his living space is. He toes off his boots and just wears his socks inside; it'd be rude to wear his heavy motorcycle boots on these nice wood floors, anyway. Even Geralt knows that, Vesemir didn't raise a boy who drags dirt onto clean floors.
The floor plan is pretty open, with the kitchen only separated from the main living area by a breakfast counter, and it appears that Jaskier spends the majority of his time sitting near the coffee table on a cushion. At least, the coffee table is the messiest part of the apartment, covered by discarded music paper and a few dirty dishes. He could picture the musician sitting there, perched on his worn pillow, plucking at a guitar and scribbling notes down on a piece of paper as he tries to figure out his next song.
Geralt follows Jaskier through the lightning tour, enough to give him an idea of the basic layout of the place. He declines the offer of clothes-- he doesn't plan on being here overnight, after all, just long enough to get Jaskier settled in and make sure that he won't have another panic attack or drink himself into a stupor or something. The musician leaves his guitar in his studio and then goes to wash off all of that ridiculous body paint and change into something practical, and Geralt is left to his own devices in his apartment.
"Hm."
He kills a few minutes looking at the bookshelves and little trinkets and some awards that look like they were given out by YouTube for having a certain amount of followers. Apparently he has quite a lot of them? That must translate to some pretty decent earnings, because unless Jaskier's a trust fund baby and paying his way with that, doing live gigs at bars couldn't possibly pay enough to keep this kind of apartment. Once he'd gotten tired look at those, though, he wanders into the kitchen and pops open the fridge just to see what kids these days are stocking up with. He's not sure what he expects-- quinoa and oat milk and all that vegan fad diet stuff? Expensive hipster artisanal food and exotic produce? Empty shelves because Jaskier doesn't have his life together?
Mostly normal, he finds when he opens the fridge door. Crisper drawer might be a bit empty, he could use more vegetables. And there's a plate of what looks like cookies and brownies, and Geralt remembers the slightly odd-shaped fruit ones from Jaskier's Instagram pictures. He hadn't put the brownies onto Instagram, though, which seems strange because they look pretty nice, possibly nicer than the slightly wonky cookies. Geralt takes one of them and considers grabbing a beer, but since he'll be driving home relatively soon, he abstains.
Jaskier takes long showers. Geralt eats the brownie and looks out the sliding glass doors that lead onto his balcony; it's not a bad view of the city, if you like that kind of thing. He's still alone by the time he finishes his treat, and fetches another from the fridge-- they're good, and a couple of brownies won't ruin his diet. He wonders if Jaskier actually made them while he debates a third, but... no. He shouldn't eat all of the musician's brownies, that would be shitty of him.
By the time Jaskier emerges from his shower, clean and dressed normally, Geralt has finished his snack and has made himself somewhat comfortable-- he's taken off his leather jacket, at least, and is fielding a few texts from Eskel about how Jaskier's doing. It's not surprising, really-- Eskel's always been the type to want to take care of people.
"Feeling better?"