There's a gym that Geralt sometimes goes to if he's going to be in town anyway, because even though he has a lot of workout equipment at home, he doesn't have absolutely everything-- it's not a regular part of his routine, though. Just a sometimes thing, he could have the special gym equipment, as a treat.

Not that he would ever expect to see this guy in a gym, nevertheless actually exercising. Maybe for an Insta-whatever picture wearing some sponsored fashionable workout clothes.

"I am, unless your baby face is really lying to me."

Not that it isn't a nice face, he supposes, with his very blue eyes and animated features and soft mouth. He's probably pretty, for a man, it's just that he looks young. And, hell, he's probably a real ladykiller, those musician types usually are. Probably just gives them a soft look with those blue eyes and says something sweet and sensitive and has all the pretty girls eating out of his hand.

"Close. Split the difference," he says. "Thirty-eight."

Ten years between them, though Geralt doesn't know that quite yet. Not that it matters, anyway, he's just letting the guy ride his horses, it's not like he's taking him out. Even if he was a woman, and interested, that would be too much of an age gap, right? He's almost forty and has a kid, he's not the kind of person that twenty-something musicians with aspirations of fame and glory would want to hang around.