Hello out there! Just in case you noticed it and wonder now - I realised this fic was rated as an "M" although there is no reason for it. Don't ask me why it was rated that way - I could swear I posted it as a "T". Anyway, the dark magic of changing ratings is banned, I changed it to the "T" it is supposed to be. Bit of swearing, as you might have noticed or will notice but that's all. Nothing we don't already know.
Anyway - thanks for everybody reading (and for everybody who might review ...), and greetings from SilverFennek - onwards!
It could've been a nice, cosy evening.
Jaskier was singing, Fenneka fabulating, Pondy and Marilla scurried busy around their guests and everybody seemed satisfied.
Geralt sprawled comfortly in the softly cushioned armchair, his spiced wine was hot and the fireplace warmed his shoulders.
It could've been peaceful and cosy.
If ... well, if it hadn't been for that stranger, that traveller.
Geralt was always anxious not to have prejudices.
But that guy, he didn't like.
He couldn't put his finger on what exactly distracted him; but the guy smelled like stupidity, arrogance and trouble.
The first mistake was to grab Pondy roughly by her wrist and try to drag her in his lap with a smug grin.
Geralt heard Jaskier's hissing breath, muscles already tensing, but Pondy was quicker.
SLAP
The second mistake was to start hollering: "Filthy half-blood! Damn hoe! Come here!"
SLAP
That was Fenneka, furiously planting herself in front of him with her hands in her hips.
The third mistake was to jump up and reach out for the innkeeper.
BOING-SLAP
Marilla had just cleared an empty pan at the next table - the weapon suited her just fine.
Geralt was reluctantly impressed. The three women had been damn quick, a harmonic synergy of effectivity and efficiency. The result spoke for itself.
"Haach," sighed Jaskier ecstatically. "Did you see that, Geralt? They don't even need you!"
"Of course they don't need me. They just want me - sometimes."