Poke
A/N: Akela's about 15.
Summary: Akela is trying to sleep, but Lambert is a dick.
"Poke me again and see what happens," Geralt spoke monotonously as he glanced over his shoulder. It was only after Akela felt his eyes on her that she realised he was talking to her. Which was shocking only because she hadn't a clue what he was talking about. Before she could ask, he returned to his meal.
Akela's confused stare lingered on him a little longer, her tired mind attempting to catch up to his words, but she gave up after a moment or so. She'd been trying to sleep, curled up behind Geralt with a blanket and a pillow in the hall of Kaer Morhen. Though the witchers had all returned for the winter and were busy drinking and exchanging stories, Akela welcomed the clamour more than she found it difficult to rest with. It was a reminder, after all, that her family had remained in one piece for another year.
"Stop it, Akela."
Now that she was sure Geralt was addressing her, Akela turned on her side and propped herself up with an elbow. "I'm not doing anything," she insisted truthfully. "I'm just trying to sleep."
Geralt glanced over his shoulder again and hummed, most likely in disagreement. Akela rolled her eyes and turned her back on him once more. She was growing more restless by the minute, increasing each time Geralt told her to stop doing something she wasn't doing.
Staring ahead, her eyes caught Lambert's, the redhead grinning from ear to ear in a very conspicuous way. He was supposedly having a conversation with Eskel and Coen, but Eskel and Coen seemed to be the only ones actually conversing. Knowing he was far too chipper to not be up to something, Akela narrowed her eyes at him, watching as he picked up a small stone from the ground, tossed it once in the air, took aim, and sent it sailing towards Geralt. It hit his shoulder and he tensed.
This time, Akela shot up in her makeshift bed, sending a look of utter hatred, eyes wide, brows furrowed, mouth open, to Lambert, who merely crossed his arms behind his head and settled back against his chair.
"You dick!" she hissed, just as Geralt turned to face her. She shook her head at him. "It was Lambert, Geralt."
"Poke him again, 'Kela! I wanna see what happens!" Lambert called. If looks could kill, the witcher need not worry about dying by a monster's hand. Akela got to her feet, snatching up her pillow as she went, and stormed towards Lambert.
Lambert chuckled, clapping Eskel on the back. "Watch this," he said. He remained still as Akela made quick work of rushing over to him, pillow raised high above her head. As soon as she neared him enough to attempt a solid hit, Lambert jolted upright, grabbed her, and pulled her onto his lap, tickling her sides so suddenly her arms jerked...
And hit Eskel instead.
