Great. Fantastic. Geralt accidentally dosed himself with two brownies' worth of pot, and they weren't small brownies. And knowing Kids These Days, they probably were strong, the sort of thing that you're supposed to start off with half of one and wait a bit to see how you feel before going for the rest of it. Back in his day, weed wasn't so goddamned potent-- you could smoke a whole joint without feeling like your entire brain was going to melt into the floor. These days, you take three or four puffs and you're absolutely toasted. Who knew that people would work on upping the THC content of weed like it's the cure for fucking cancer?
Point is, Geralt's fucked and he's already starting to feel the initial effects of all the weed that he ate. It'll hit him fully before too long, and then he'll just be spending the rest of the night high as fuck, trying to act normal.
And he's not even going to get that coffee. Geralt frowns at Jaskier's coffee rejection, then frowns more at the brightly colored flask that the musician puts into his hand. He takes it, of course, because he has the bad habit of taking anything that's handed to him, and moves when he's commanded to sit on the couch. It's a nice couch, and Geralt's weight makes him sink into it a little when he sits down, and it's entirely possible that once this weed kicks in, he might have a hard time getting up again.
"I've smoked pot before," he says, because clearly this is the important thing that needs to be corrected right now. "Just not in fucking years. I have a kid."
He can't go out and get baked when he has to take care of a teenage child, that would be both terribly irresponsible and set a horrible role model for her. She's too young to partake of the devil's lettuce. Once she's not living in Geralt's house, she can do what she wants, but so long as she's living with him, it's Healthy Choices For Developing Children.
Jaskier brings the cookie tray over, sans brownies, and fusses with his tea until it's however he likes it. The couch is very comfortable and Geralt doesn't particularly want to move, even to try one of these cookies that Jaskier's so insistent about, which really just means that the weed is kicking in more. God, this is going to be an ordeal. He's going to be a boneless lump of asshole on this couch before the evening's through.
"Did you put anything in them?" Because that's a question that he has to ask now, apparently. "More weed. Cocaine. LSD. Whatever's popular these days."
If Jaskier wants him to eat one of them, he might have to hand it to him.
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Point is, Geralt's fucked and he's already starting to feel the initial effects of all the weed that he ate. It'll hit him fully before too long, and then he'll just be spending the rest of the night high as fuck, trying to act normal.
And he's not even going to get that coffee. Geralt frowns at Jaskier's coffee rejection, then frowns more at the brightly colored flask that the musician puts into his hand. He takes it, of course, because he has the bad habit of taking anything that's handed to him, and moves when he's commanded to sit on the couch. It's a nice couch, and Geralt's weight makes him sink into it a little when he sits down, and it's entirely possible that once this weed kicks in, he might have a hard time getting up again.
"I've smoked pot before," he says, because clearly this is the important thing that needs to be corrected right now. "Just not in fucking years. I have a kid."
He can't go out and get baked when he has to take care of a teenage child, that would be both terribly irresponsible and set a horrible role model for her. She's too young to partake of the devil's lettuce. Once she's not living in Geralt's house, she can do what she wants, but so long as she's living with him, it's Healthy Choices For Developing Children.
Jaskier brings the cookie tray over, sans brownies, and fusses with his tea until it's however he likes it. The couch is very comfortable and Geralt doesn't particularly want to move, even to try one of these cookies that Jaskier's so insistent about, which really just means that the weed is kicking in more. God, this is going to be an ordeal. He's going to be a boneless lump of asshole on this couch before the evening's through.
"Did you put anything in them?" Because that's a question that he has to ask now, apparently. "More weed. Cocaine. LSD. Whatever's popular these days."
If Jaskier wants him to eat one of them, he might have to hand it to him.