Who: Killua Zoldyck and ANYONE! When: throughout August Where: Aefenglom city and the Wilde around it What: full moon, quests, shenanigans, etc. Warnings: undead-creature-related gore; awkward full moon teenage ust......
He leads Roach along. Satisfactory answers are not his thing. It's a wonder he's even giving any answers at all. A good ten seconds or so pass before he finally replies further.
"You wouldn't have. Worlds are obviously different." He glances over, eyeing Killua. It's possible, with time, the boy might pry more out of him, but for now, Geralt seems to have reached the limits of his willingness to go into depth about the history of Witchers and how they're created. "Don't worry about it, kid."
"Only when I keep not getting proper answers. Obviously."
Killua rolls his eyes at the continued string of non-answers. This guy...
"Well, whatever. You don't gotta tell me if you don't want to. But, ugh, don't call me 'kid.' It sounds so stupid. My name's Killua."
And no, he will not stop calling Geralt 'old man' out of politeness either.
"What do you want to do about selling the creepy head? If you know a place, how about I give you my contact info and you can let me know once you've got the money. I get half!"
Uh-huh. Geralt acknowledges none of this aside from a sidelong glance that says he definitely heard. He's just chosen not to reply.
"I'll find someone." He'll take the responsibility of selling it. As casual as Killua has been about all this and the fact that he's seen younger looking to sell or buy butchered monsters, he'd prefer not to send him out into town hauling a severed head.
Should be plenty of researchers willing to pay. Hungry for coin, isn't he? Geralt snorts quietly.
"Next week. In the square, at noon. Meet me there." It'll be sold one way or another long before then. He's not hanging onto a dead horse head for more than a couple days. "Don't be late."
He's just used to a certain lifestyle (read: one where he doesn't need to cook or clean because he's a spoiled rich boy) and suddenly having no income is aggravating. And it's not like he's about to get a 'real' job, pfft.
The firm order earns Geralt an exaggerated rolling of the eyes from Killua.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're real uptight about punctuality 'cause you're so crotchety, every minute is precious in your old age. Untwist your undies. I won't be late."
Old and crochety. Now where's he heard that before? It says something, he thinks, that Jaskier sounds not unlike a fifteen year old insulting him.
He sighs, leaving without another word. He gets the two heads sold -- to two different witches -- and shows up where he said a week later to hand Killua the money he's owed.
Fair's fair. And he did help him with the monster. Geralt doesn't linger long after the exchange; he has little intention of making friends with the boy, even if he's curious about him. Besides, city the way it is, he has a feeling they'll bump into each other again.
It's possible, though, that Killua might find -- with no indication that this is the case -- that Geralt has given him a bit more than half of the profits. But it'd be easy to assume that he's simply managed to sell the heads for higher than they're worth.
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no subject
He leads Roach along. Satisfactory answers are not his thing. It's a wonder he's even giving any answers at all. A good ten seconds or so pass before he finally replies further.
"You wouldn't have. Worlds are obviously different." He glances over, eyeing Killua. It's possible, with time, the boy might pry more out of him, but for now, Geralt seems to have reached the limits of his willingness to go into depth about the history of Witchers and how they're created. "Don't worry about it, kid."
no subject
Killua rolls his eyes at the continued string of non-answers. This guy...
"Well, whatever. You don't gotta tell me if you don't want to. But, ugh, don't call me 'kid.' It sounds so stupid. My name's Killua."
And no, he will not stop calling Geralt 'old man' out of politeness either.
"What do you want to do about selling the creepy head? If you know a place, how about I give you my contact info and you can let me know once you've got the money. I get half!"
no subject
"I'll find someone." He'll take the responsibility of selling it. As casual as Killua has been about all this and the fact that he's seen younger looking to sell or buy butchered monsters, he'd prefer not to send him out into town hauling a severed head.
Should be plenty of researchers willing to pay. Hungry for coin, isn't he? Geralt snorts quietly.
"Next week. In the square, at noon. Meet me there." It'll be sold one way or another long before then. He's not hanging onto a dead horse head for more than a couple days. "Don't be late."
no subject
The firm order earns Geralt an exaggerated rolling of the eyes from Killua.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're real uptight about punctuality 'cause you're so crotchety, every minute is precious in your old age. Untwist your undies. I won't be late."
no subject
He sighs, leaving without another word. He gets the two heads sold -- to two different witches -- and shows up where he said a week later to hand Killua the money he's owed.
Fair's fair. And he did help him with the monster. Geralt doesn't linger long after the exchange; he has little intention of making friends with the boy, even if he's curious about him. Besides, city the way it is, he has a feeling they'll bump into each other again.
It's possible, though, that Killua might find -- with no indication that this is the case -- that Geralt has given him a bit more than half of the profits. But it'd be easy to assume that he's simply managed to sell the heads for higher than they're worth.