That... is not the kind of reaction he has been expecting. It's almost like Geralt is already saying yes. Really? So easily?
"Geralt? Why do you sound so surprised?"
Frowning, he raises his head from the spot on Geralt's shoulder and tilts it at him, obviously confused. He can't help thinking there's a gap in logic he's missing here - witcher logic, probably. Fuck, Geralt, what conclusions have your weird mind jumped to this time?
"It's like you don't know me at all, old friend. Visiting the mythical Kaer Morhen would be an honor by itself - that's both history and legends, wrapped in an intricate pattern of stone and snow. Spending winter with you would be lovely, no matter the place, because you're my best friend in the whole world." Lets's ignore the other pesky feelings that go with it, Geralt being his best friend is still not a lie. He'd also love to do all the dramatic gesturing this explanation requires, but as soon as he tries to moves his arms, he drops them. Still sore. "I've always wanted to try, but I know you would hate Oxenfurt with passion. Getting to meet other witchers? What an opportunity! More stories to hear, more songs to write! Getting to know your home and your family it's getting to know you more! And Princess Cirilla, gods bless her, I -more than anyone- can understand the background she comes from, I can help her transition--"
And then it hits him - what worries Geralt.
"Bollocks. You think I'd hate it because it's not fancy." He would put his hands on his waist, but there's no much space in his cloak cocoon, so he crosses his arms instead. "Geralt, the day I met you, I had bread in my pants. How many nights have we spent on the road, eating whatever you were able to hunt? How many shitty inns have we slept in? How many days have we spent without a proper wash? I do enjoy the finest pleasures of life, but at the end of the day, my dear witcher - I enjoy adventuring with you a thousand times more."
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"Geralt? Why do you sound so surprised?"
Frowning, he raises his head from the spot on Geralt's shoulder and tilts it at him, obviously confused. He can't help thinking there's a gap in logic he's missing here - witcher logic, probably. Fuck, Geralt, what conclusions have your weird mind jumped to this time?
"It's like you don't know me at all, old friend. Visiting the mythical Kaer Morhen would be an honor by itself - that's both history and legends, wrapped in an intricate pattern of stone and snow. Spending winter with you would be lovely, no matter the place, because you're my best friend in the whole world." Lets's ignore the other pesky feelings that go with it, Geralt being his best friend is still not a lie. He'd also love to do all the dramatic gesturing this explanation requires, but as soon as he tries to moves his arms, he drops them. Still sore. "I've always wanted to try, but I know you would hate Oxenfurt with passion. Getting to meet other witchers? What an opportunity! More stories to hear, more songs to write! Getting to know your home and your family it's getting to know you more! And Princess Cirilla, gods bless her, I -more than anyone- can understand the background she comes from, I can help her transition--"
And then it hits him - what worries Geralt.
"Bollocks. You think I'd hate it because it's not fancy." He would put his hands on his waist, but there's no much space in his cloak cocoon, so he crosses his arms instead. "Geralt, the day I met you, I had bread in my pants. How many nights have we spent on the road, eating whatever you were able to hunt? How many shitty inns have we slept in? How many days have we spent without a proper wash? I do enjoy the finest pleasures of life, but at the end of the day, my dear witcher - I enjoy adventuring with you a thousand times more."