"No, you drank too much and are imagining things," Geralt replies with that dry tone of his. He takes the cups from Midge to wash them too. "We're supposed to take turns," he adds with a sigh that says he ends up doing it most of the time.
"Jaskier prefers the laundry." Because god forbid that something happens to his precious fabrics, although there's no denying that throwing clothes in the machine takes less effort than the dishes. Geralt suspects Jaskier wouldn't do everyone's laundry so eagerly back in their world.
She snorts a laugh at that, though the tidbit about the laundry is interesting. “Duly noted, thank you.”
Midge leans against the counter next to where Geralt is standing at the sink. “You may be a nearly perfect man who helps with the cooking and the dishes, but I happen to be quite in love with your high maintenance friend.”
She can’t help it. Midge is completely head over heels for him.
"Nearly perfect?" Geralt asks with raised eyebrows. He isn't anywhere near perfect. "You don't know me," he adds, the nicest way he has to correct her without starting an argument.
He dries his hands with the dish cloth while watching Midge, trying to guess where this is coming from. Geralt thinks she's playing with fire, but he isn't saying that aloud anytime soon.
"I know. I can smell it from three rooms over." He doesn't doubt her feelings for his friend - is that why she was announcing it? He's so confused, but he won't poke into this to much as long as the couple is happy. "Smaller plates in that door." He points at the right cupboard before putting the leftover meat in the fridge and bring out the pie.
“You’re right. I don’t,” she says. “I just know that most men don’t help with things like this.”
Her cheeks flush when Geralt mentions being able to smell her. “I don’t pity your nose later tonight.” She gets the plates as instructed. Maybe Midge was just fishing for compliments, but she hoped she might hear something about how Jaskier seems happier than he used to. Maybe Geralt’s just not that kind of guy.
She gets a knife for cutting the pie. “Ciri picked cherry,” Midge says.
"Most men are lazy dolts," Geralt replies without a hint of irony.
The comment about his nose makes him snort, but it's an amused sound at least. "Yen's spell is for both sounds and smells," he explains. "Jaskier hasn't stopped smelling like a hormonal teenager since he was actually one anyway."
He starts cutting slices for the others and puts his pinky in the filling to then lick it. His nose wrinkles a little. "Very sweet," he says before cutting a very small slice for himself. He doesn't want to disappoint Ciri by not having any.
"All my senses are enhanced," he clarifies. That includes taste, so he doesn't do well with strong flavours. He can't handle spicy food at all.
When Midge returns, Jaskier is sitting next to Yennefer, chatting with her. He smiles when he sees Midge and quickly returns to his seat.
"Sorry. You changed me for an immortal so I had to do the same," he teases as he watches Geralt come back with the last two plates. Nobody seems to be awkward or in a bad mood, so it seems their little kitchen moment went well. Jaskier just wants them to get along, and knows how hard it is for both Geralt and Yennefer to warm up to new people. "Congratulations on not scaring her off," he tells Geralt.
"Oooh, he must've hated that. He doesn't take compliments well." Jaskier replies with clear amusement, and Ciri giggles. "Are you alright, my friend? That must've been such a hard hit to take," he asks Geralt just to tease him.
"Shut up," Geralt says without meeting anyone's eyes.
The pie is indeed delicious, and everyone enjoys it greatly. Ciri even goes to the kitchen to get a second slice.
"Maybe this is something for you to learn," Yennefer tells Geralt.
Jaskier nods in agreement and turns to Midge. "He makes the softest bread."
“If he made the bread we had with dinner tonight, that was excellent,” Midge replies. “I can make challah, which is a type of Jewish bread, but that’s about it.”
Looking up at Jaskier, she notices that he has a little bit of cherry filling on his lip. She takes her napkin and wipes it away.
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"He really likes horses," Ciri explains to Midge.
"He likes talking to horses," Jaskier adds. "Although I admit I miss Roach, too."
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“You do dishes too?” Midge asks Geralt. “Are you even real?”
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"Jaskier prefers the laundry." Because god forbid that something happens to his precious fabrics, although there's no denying that throwing clothes in the machine takes less effort than the dishes. Geralt suspects Jaskier wouldn't do everyone's laundry so eagerly back in their world.
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Midge leans against the counter next to where Geralt is standing at the sink. “You may be a nearly perfect man who helps with the cooking and the dishes, but I happen to be quite in love with your high maintenance friend.”
She can’t help it. Midge is completely head over heels for him.
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He dries his hands with the dish cloth while watching Midge, trying to guess where this is coming from. Geralt thinks she's playing with fire, but he isn't saying that aloud anytime soon.
"I know. I can smell it from three rooms over." He doesn't doubt her feelings for his friend - is that why she was announcing it? He's so confused, but he won't poke into this to much as long as the couple is happy. "Smaller plates in that door." He points at the right cupboard before putting the leftover meat in the fridge and bring out the pie.
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Her cheeks flush when Geralt mentions being able to smell her. “I don’t pity your nose later tonight.” She gets the plates as instructed. Maybe Midge was just fishing for compliments, but she hoped she might hear something about how Jaskier seems happier than he used to. Maybe Geralt’s just not that kind of guy.
She gets a knife for cutting the pie. “Ciri picked cherry,” Midge says.
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The comment about his nose makes him snort, but it's an amused sound at least. "Yen's spell is for both sounds and smells," he explains. "Jaskier hasn't stopped smelling like a hormonal teenager since he was actually one anyway."
He starts cutting slices for the others and puts his pinky in the filling to then lick it. His nose wrinkles a little. "Very sweet," he says before cutting a very small slice for himself. He doesn't want to disappoint Ciri by not having any.
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As he cuts the slices, Midge puts forks on each of the plates. “Oh come on,” she says. “Enjoy the sugar.”
Balancing three of the plates, Midge makes her way back to the dining room. She puts them down in front of Jaskier, Ciri and Yennefer.
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When Midge returns, Jaskier is sitting next to Yennefer, chatting with her. He smiles when he sees Midge and quickly returns to his seat.
"Sorry. You changed me for an immortal so I had to do the same," he teases as he watches Geralt come back with the last two plates. Nobody seems to be awkward or in a bad mood, so it seems their little kitchen moment went well. Jaskier just wants them to get along, and knows how hard it is for both Geralt and Yennefer to warm up to new people. "Congratulations on not scaring her off," he tells Geralt.
"Mmh."
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The pie is excellent, of course. Midge hums her approval as she chews. “I’m a decent baker,” she says, “but I can’t make a pie as good as this.”
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"Shut up," Geralt says without meeting anyone's eyes.
The pie is indeed delicious, and everyone enjoys it greatly. Ciri even goes to the kitchen to get a second slice.
"Maybe this is something for you to learn," Yennefer tells Geralt.
Jaskier nods in agreement and turns to Midge. "He makes the softest bread."
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Looking up at Jaskier, she notices that he has a little bit of cherry filling on his lip. She takes her napkin and wipes it away.