[ Lambert’s not at home, in fact, because he has a job like a fine upstanding citizen of Aefenglom beating in the heads of anyone starting trouble in the Sly Seadog. The house is actually cleaner than Geralt left it, not that he’s in any state to notice, and distinctly hookerless.
When Lambert comes home, the mess that greets him makes him wrinkle his nose, but he trudges inside to survey the damage, the fuzzy ears that are only about leveret-length now growing from his head twitching back and pinning as clawed hands sit on his hips. Force of habit has him checking the gear to see if it’s clean, wiping off the worst if it’s not.
However, it’s force of asshole that means Geralt is getting woken up by a hot, damp towel being slapped onto his head. ]
no subject
When Lambert comes home, the mess that greets him makes him wrinkle his nose, but he trudges inside to survey the damage, the fuzzy ears that are only about leveret-length now growing from his head twitching back and pinning as clawed hands sit on his hips. Force of habit has him checking the gear to see if it’s clean, wiping off the worst if it’s not.
However, it’s force of asshole that means Geralt is getting woken up by a hot, damp towel being slapped onto his head. ]