kingofdirtandnothing asked: ❝ If I believed in fate, I wouldn’t be playing with loaded dice. ❞
The Road to El Dorado
“I would like it noted that if you’d just agreed to a nice game of Gwent, we’d be well on our way by now.” Jaskier rubs his fingers nervously as he hisses at the stubborn witcher. “And with heavy pockets to boot.”
But Geralt is still glaring holes into the tabletop as he shakes the pair of dice in his hand.
“Slap down a Villentretenmerth, destroy that chum’s defenses, and we’d be rolling in coin.” He hums, looking mournfully into the distance. “A decent room, with a real bed...real dinner...a bath...”
But the dice are cast, and Geralt, predictably, wins to a chorus of disappointed, drunken groans from their adversaries of the night. Jaskier’s lips twitch, almost a beat too late before he jumps into very surprised cheers.
“Alright, gentlemen,” He rubs his hands together, “Toss those coins to my witcher.”
Oops. Slip of the tongue. Sorry, Geralt.
But the coins are clinking down on the table, and they officially have enough for a lovely night at the inn. Jaskier waits for the drunken louts to leave, and turns his eyes to look at Geralt, propping his cheek on his hand.
“So, you really don’t think a visit to Cintra is in order?”
