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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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.