"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.
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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.