"If I want them to be?" Rowan echoes doubtfully. "I didn't think that was how it worked."
Besides, he only really wants one person to be interested in him, he thinks, and she's an entire dimension away.
"Not a nightmare like I'm going to freak out, but a nightmare like--" Like he's scared? Yeah. A little. But he's not about to admit that to the man in front of him, no matter how much his mouth wants to run away from him.
"Like showing up to school naked. Or forgetting everybody's name. That kind of nightmare."
"If you act like this is a nightmare and that you're not interested, people are going to pick up on it and probably leave you alone."
Which wasn't an entirely bad thing except in a place like this where you had to fuck at least three people. It's an easily attainable goal for him but apparently some others might have some issues with it.
"The only way I can see you getting over your...nightmare is to find someone that you don't hate and fuck them until you're ready for other people."
He shrugs. It seems like a good enough idea to him. "Work up from there."
"Lucky for you, I don't mind people who are miserable." Since he spent a lot of time like that himself. He actually does a lot better with people who aren't incredibly happy and exuberant.
Geralt reaches for his drink and tosses it back again, feeling that burn once more and blowing out a breath.
"I don't hate you either," he adds after a moment because it's true. He doesn't really understand the burden Rowan's carrying about sex but he's probably not the best person to look to when it comes to emotions.
Because he tries to ignore that he has any.
"Don't pretend," Geralt tells him, sitting up and fixing him with a look. "Do whatever the fuck you want but you don't have to pretend. That's pointless."
Rowan arches a brow. "So you just like to point out that they're miserable, in case they missed it?" Because honestly Rowan had thought that initial comment on that night in the hotel, that he looked ill, had been more of a jab than an observation. But Rowan takes a lot of things personally that perhaps he shouldn't.
He catches that look and holds it.
"So you're not pretending, ever, about anything?"
Rowan highly doubts it. At this rate, from his experiences, he's thinking everyone has a shady side.
"I never said that," Geralt points out with a shake of his head. "I pretend. Sometimes, it's necessary. Sometimes, it's something I want to do because..."
He trails off and shrugs a shoulder. "Because I feel like it. No other reason than that. But, I'm fine with admitting that too."
He doesn't think he has to show anyone and everyone the parts of him that he wants to keep hidden. He can pretend to be someone else, to have different motives than he has and when he gets what he wants, he'll walk away. It's worked for him for awhile.
"And you seem to enjoy making assumptions, don't you?" he points out, arching an eyebrow. "I didn't point anything out to you. I've just agreed with your assertions."
"I meant at the hotel," Rowan points out. Because there Geralt had been comfortable pointing out that Rowan looked like he would be sick about twice. Which is two times too many for Rowan.
It's not that he likes assumptions so much as he's hyperdefensive underneath the casual kid act he likes to put on. It hasn't steered him wrong in the past because, well, ever since he entered the scythedom, through apprenticeship, people have shown themselves to have other motives. Secret desires. A sharp word or some push back could reveal a lot.
Now it's just revealing a lot of annoyance in Rowan's direction. He doesn't like that, but he doesn't quite know what to do about it.
"So, don't pretend to be okay just to get fucked. But sure, pretend to be other things, as long as you admit to it?"
"You looked like you'd rather be absolutely anywhere else at the hotel but there," he responds with a sigh. He'd looked uncomfortable and he's fairly sure Rowan had felt uncomfortable even if he doesn't want to admit that.
The answer to his next question is more difficult. He feels like Rowan is trying to talk him into circles and he's never liked talking that much.
"You can honestly do whatever the fuck you like," he says mildly, slightly amused by all this. "You're in a city that wants you to fuck and get fucked. I've had people lecture me about this so who am I to give you advice when I don't want people giving it to me?"
He shrugs one broad shoulder.
"So, what do you want?" he asks, looking at him steadily. "I think that's the important thing here."
He's not trying to talk Geralt into circles so much as being confused by his advice and, as a result, wanting to dismiss it. And the last question is hard because he doesn't know what he wants; that's why he's looking to Geralt for advice, or guidance, because the man doesn't seem to have the same problems that Rowan has.
What does he want? It sounds childish and stupid to say he wants to go home. Home means the constant threat of death and probably never seeing Citra again. But at least he knows what he's doing there, more than he does here.
"I want to get out of here," he says, honestly, because anywhere might be better than here.
"But until then I guess... I just want to do things as close to my own terms as possible. Take my time, talk to people. But that's hard." To say the least.
"We agree on the first point," he says with a quick nod. He wants to get out of here as well. He's not having as much difficulty as Rowan is but he doesn't want to be here for too long. He can suffer a small side trip but anything lengthy is going to start bothering him.
"Why is it hard?" he asks, tapping his glass. "Because that's not what most people want?"
Were that many people just jumping into bed and fucking without even exchanging words?
"Honestly, I suppose if you make this apparent quota then however you do it is fine. Just don't overthink it too much. You'll never get what you want, then."
"It's hard because that's not what they want," Rowan says, giving Geralt a mild look of confusion. Was he really having such an okay time here?
He sighs quietly and pitches his voice a little quieter.
"I've had sex three times. Aprhos were involved twice, both times not of my choosing. I tried to have relationships with people, you know what I mean--" Not relationships but relations between people. "--and they nearly got destroyed by Duplicity deciding to be sneaky. I don't like it."
He hasn't been here long at all and already he's off his game, if he ever had any. It's disorienting and uncomfortable.
Ah yes, the citation. That's something he's received as well though he hasn't really done anything with it. What's the worst that could happen? Were they going to kill him. He shifts a bit, passing a hand over his face and through his hair before he fixes Rowan with a look.
"So, make the next time be your own choice," he says, a simple statement but difficult here. "Pick someone you want to fuck and make it happen. Take control back."
There's no easy fix for what he's describing but Geralt thinks that not allowing this place to have that hold over here might be a start.
"There are people here that you would choose to fuck, right?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Rowan says automatically. Because he still has eyes even if his heart belongs to someone else. But he's reminded of that conversation with Rogue, before things went south.
"It feels like cheating on my girlfriend back home. And before you say it, yeah, I'm working on that. I don't think she'd hold it against me, all things considered. But I haven't been here very long and I've been in love with her for years so..."
He shrugs. "Even the best option is still a shitty one."
It's not a situation that Geralt envies. His own emotional ties are murky and chaotic and he's doing his level best to not think about them because he doesn't want to deal with his own feelings right now.
She isn't here, he is and he's going to adapt to this place in his own way.
"Well, there is always drinking until you're more comfortable," he advises. It would, at least, help with the quota. "Not that it would solve your problem but I've always been fan."
Rowan huffs out a dry laugh at that. Seems the answer to everything is to take something to make it easier, whether it be aphrodisiacs or simple liquor. At least he can get behind the liquor more easily than the rest. At least he has some measure of control there.
He lifts his glass a well before finishing it off in one go.
"I guess I should become a fan of this stuff, and fast," he says, leaning against the bar, elbows propped up on the counter.
"Anyway, that's my story of misery. I'm glad you're not as bad off, from the looks of it."
"I'm a lot older than you so I've experienced more." And when he says a lot, he means a lot. He knows that he doesn't look it which is why it's always amusing to tell someone just how old he is.
"You're not that miserable." Which can also mean that he's not that pathetic. His way of thinking is different than Geralt's but that's not surprising. They're from different worlds.
He reaches for his drink and downs it easily before shrugging a shoulder. "And I think that'll be fine once you allow yourself to...have fun."
Rowan arches an eyebrow at that, because Geralt does not seem a lot older than him. But given he comes from a world where someone can be 100 and look 25, he's not going to question it too hard. Besides, adults love to tell teenagers that they don't know anything. So it could also be as simple as that: an argument for superiority that Rowan feels disinclined to fight in.
He does however huff out a dry laugh at the notion of having fun here.
"I guess..." It seems as though he's going to say more, expand that comment. But he doesn't know what he's going to say really. Not the truth. So he shakes his head and says, "I don't know the first thing about fun in this place. But I guess finding a job and settling in is step one."
"It's a distraction even if it's not fun. It gives you something to do."
And maybe that means he won't be so up in his own head about everything. That's what Geralt thinks is really holding him down. He's overthinking some more simplistic things. There's no real easy solution to that.
Geralt would go fuck or kill something or maybe both if he needed to get his head on straight but that's not really an option here.
"You need to find something that takes you out of your own head. It's different for everyone."
Rowan considers that, getting out of his head and how to do it. He had never really had to do so back home, not when he was just a regular kid and definitely not when he was an apprentice.
He huffs out a laugh when he realizes what the closest thing he knows is to that. Namely, jumping off a building.
"I guess I'll just have to figure out what works for me," he says, still smiling. "It's not something I've really had reason to figure out before. Maybe it is as simple as getting drunk."
"Getting drunk works for me," Geralt says and raises his glass, toasting Rowan's words. It's not perfect and the escape is temporary but sometimes you can have a good few hours where you don't remember anything that's bothering you.
He hasn't been left down by it, yet, which is why he's going to continue to do it. It's a foolproof coping mechanism.
"And if you need something else to do, come find me and I'll throw a sword at you," he says, only half joking.
Rowan lifts his eyebrows with marked interest at that. Geralt has a vaguely joking tone to him, so Rowan feels the need to be a little emphatic.
"No, seriously. Any time you want to throw a sword at me, I'm there."
He probably shouldn't be too eager, but the fact is he's getting antsy, uncomfortable, and getting out of his head sometimes means being what Goddard made him: a weapon.
Well, that's an eager answer, isn't it? Geralt lifts one eyebrow, looking at Rowan in a new light. He either has a death wish (which Geralt doesn't think is true) or he's a swordsman himself and he wants to test his skills.
"I never drink and swing a sword," he says though it's a lie. He has a very high constitution so having a few drinks doesn't have much effect on him especially when he's working.
Coin is a powerful motivator.
"If you want me to throw swords at you, I'd be happy to."
"Yeah, definitely." His grin is a little too excited, something lighting up in his eyes. It's one thing to kill, to target and to hunt down and to destroy. It's another thing to spar, in a friendly manner, with someone who might just be his equal. Maybe even better. Rowan doesn't mind getting his ass kicked sometimes.
"Some other time," he says, nodding. He doesn't even have his swords and he's decided to spend this night drinking either here or elsewhere so his swords will stay where they are.
"I've heard of the Arena," he says. He hasn't been there, not yet, but it's on his list of places to go. "Let me know when and I'll gladly throw a sword at you."
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Besides, he only really wants one person to be interested in him, he thinks, and she's an entire dimension away.
"Not a nightmare like I'm going to freak out, but a nightmare like--" Like he's scared? Yeah. A little. But he's not about to admit that to the man in front of him, no matter how much his mouth wants to run away from him.
"Like showing up to school naked. Or forgetting everybody's name. That kind of nightmare."
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Which wasn't an entirely bad thing except in a place like this where you had to fuck at least three people. It's an easily attainable goal for him but apparently some others might have some issues with it.
"The only way I can see you getting over your...nightmare is to find someone that you don't hate and fuck them until you're ready for other people."
He shrugs. It seems like a good enough idea to him. "Work up from there."
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"I don't hate a lot of people," Rowan points out. "Shit, I don't hate you. But pretending like I'm okay in order to seem fuckable feels like a lot."
He idly spins the shot glass on the counter top.
"I'm not actually as miserable as I seem," he points out. "You just seem unlucky with me." Or so he thinks.
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Geralt reaches for his drink and tosses it back again, feeling that burn once more and blowing out a breath.
"I don't hate you either," he adds after a moment because it's true. He doesn't really understand the burden Rowan's carrying about sex but he's probably not the best person to look to when it comes to emotions.
Because he tries to ignore that he has any.
"Don't pretend," Geralt tells him, sitting up and fixing him with a look. "Do whatever the fuck you want but you don't have to pretend. That's pointless."
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He catches that look and holds it.
"So you're not pretending, ever, about anything?"
Rowan highly doubts it. At this rate, from his experiences, he's thinking everyone has a shady side.
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He trails off and shrugs a shoulder. "Because I feel like it. No other reason than that. But, I'm fine with admitting that too."
He doesn't think he has to show anyone and everyone the parts of him that he wants to keep hidden. He can pretend to be someone else, to have different motives than he has and when he gets what he wants, he'll walk away. It's worked for him for awhile.
"And you seem to enjoy making assumptions, don't you?" he points out, arching an eyebrow. "I didn't point anything out to you. I've just agreed with your assertions."
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It's not that he likes assumptions so much as he's hyperdefensive underneath the casual kid act he likes to put on. It hasn't steered him wrong in the past because, well, ever since he entered the scythedom, through apprenticeship, people have shown themselves to have other motives. Secret desires. A sharp word or some push back could reveal a lot.
Now it's just revealing a lot of annoyance in Rowan's direction. He doesn't like that, but he doesn't quite know what to do about it.
"So, don't pretend to be okay just to get fucked. But sure, pretend to be other things, as long as you admit to it?"
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The answer to his next question is more difficult. He feels like Rowan is trying to talk him into circles and he's never liked talking that much.
"You can honestly do whatever the fuck you like," he says mildly, slightly amused by all this. "You're in a city that wants you to fuck and get fucked. I've had people lecture me about this so who am I to give you advice when I don't want people giving it to me?"
He shrugs one broad shoulder.
"So, what do you want?" he asks, looking at him steadily. "I think that's the important thing here."
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What does he want? It sounds childish and stupid to say he wants to go home. Home means the constant threat of death and probably never seeing Citra again. But at least he knows what he's doing there, more than he does here.
"I want to get out of here," he says, honestly, because anywhere might be better than here.
"But until then I guess... I just want to do things as close to my own terms as possible. Take my time, talk to people. But that's hard." To say the least.
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"Why is it hard?" he asks, tapping his glass. "Because that's not what most people want?"
Were that many people just jumping into bed and fucking without even exchanging words?
"Honestly, I suppose if you make this apparent quota then however you do it is fine. Just don't overthink it too much. You'll never get what you want, then."
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He sighs quietly and pitches his voice a little quieter.
"I've had sex three times. Aprhos were involved twice, both times not of my choosing. I tried to have relationships with people, you know what I mean--" Not relationships but relations between people. "--and they nearly got destroyed by Duplicity deciding to be sneaky. I don't like it."
He hasn't been here long at all and already he's off his game, if he ever had any. It's disorienting and uncomfortable.
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"So, make the next time be your own choice," he says, a simple statement but difficult here. "Pick someone you want to fuck and make it happen. Take control back."
There's no easy fix for what he's describing but Geralt thinks that not allowing this place to have that hold over here might be a start.
"There are people here that you would choose to fuck, right?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.
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"It feels like cheating on my girlfriend back home. And before you say it, yeah, I'm working on that. I don't think she'd hold it against me, all things considered. But I haven't been here very long and I've been in love with her for years so..."
He shrugs. "Even the best option is still a shitty one."
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She isn't here, he is and he's going to adapt to this place in his own way.
"Well, there is always drinking until you're more comfortable," he advises. It would, at least, help with the quota. "Not that it would solve your problem but I've always been fan."
He smiles, lifting his glass.
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He lifts his glass a well before finishing it off in one go.
"I guess I should become a fan of this stuff, and fast," he says, leaning against the bar, elbows propped up on the counter.
"Anyway, that's my story of misery. I'm glad you're not as bad off, from the looks of it."
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"You're not that miserable." Which can also mean that he's not that pathetic. His way of thinking is different than Geralt's but that's not surprising. They're from different worlds.
He reaches for his drink and downs it easily before shrugging a shoulder. "And I think that'll be fine once you allow yourself to...have fun."
Or whatever you want to call it.
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He does however huff out a dry laugh at the notion of having fun here.
"I guess..." It seems as though he's going to say more, expand that comment. But he doesn't know what he's going to say really. Not the truth. So he shakes his head and says, "I don't know the first thing about fun in this place. But I guess finding a job and settling in is step one."
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And maybe that means he won't be so up in his own head about everything. That's what Geralt thinks is really holding him down. He's overthinking some more simplistic things. There's no real easy solution to that.
Geralt would go fuck or kill something or maybe both if he needed to get his head on straight but that's not really an option here.
"You need to find something that takes you out of your own head. It's different for everyone."
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He huffs out a laugh when he realizes what the closest thing he knows is to that. Namely, jumping off a building.
"I guess I'll just have to figure out what works for me," he says, still smiling. "It's not something I've really had reason to figure out before. Maybe it is as simple as getting drunk."
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He hasn't been left down by it, yet, which is why he's going to continue to do it. It's a foolproof coping mechanism.
"And if you need something else to do, come find me and I'll throw a sword at you," he says, only half joking.
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"No, seriously. Any time you want to throw a sword at me, I'm there."
He probably shouldn't be too eager, but the fact is he's getting antsy, uncomfortable, and getting out of his head sometimes means being what Goddard made him: a weapon.
"Just... maybe not with alcohol."
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"I never drink and swing a sword," he says though it's a lie. He has a very high constitution so having a few drinks doesn't have much effect on him especially when he's working.
Coin is a powerful motivator.
"If you want me to throw swords at you, I'd be happy to."
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"Maybe the Arena or something? Some other time."
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"I've heard of the Arena," he says. He hasn't been there, not yet, but it's on his list of places to go. "Let me know when and I'll gladly throw a sword at you."
Maybe even two swords.