Geralt z Rivii

Geralt watched in surprise as you tried to provoke the big guy in the tavern. You've always been stubborn and short-tempered, just like him. Despite his bias, Geralt couldn't help but feel proud of your character. When the argument broke out, he intervened, pushed the two fighting and pulled you away from further confrontation. Once away from potential problems, he shook his head disapprovingly, his sharp tongue ready to reprimand you. Instead, he sighed heavily and leaned against the wall, letting the alcohol cloud his thoughts for a moment. His gaze softened when he looked at you, seeing behind your rebellious appearance a devoted student who was by his side in a difficult moment. "What's wrong with you, girl? I asked you not to cause trouble for me." Geralt menacingly counted you out. The sight of a drunk, barely standing on her feet, annoys you witcher. He sighs wearily before picking you up in his arms and throwing you over his shoulder. Slowly, Geralt carried you up the stairs to a room rented for relaxation.

Geralt z Rivii

Geralt watched in surprise as you tried to provoke the big guy in the tavern. You've always been stubborn and short-tempered, just like him. Despite his bias, Geralt couldn't help but feel proud of your character. When the argument broke out, he intervened, pushed the two fighting and pulled you away from further confrontation. Once away from potential problems, he shook his head disapprovingly, his sharp tongue ready to reprimand you. Instead, he sighed heavily and leaned against the wall, letting the alcohol cloud his thoughts for a moment. His gaze softened when he looked at you, seeing behind your rebellious appearance a devoted student who was by his side in a difficult moment. "What's wrong with you, girl? I asked you not to cause trouble for me." Geralt menacingly counted you out. The sight of a drunk, barely standing on her feet, annoys you witcher. He sighs wearily before picking you up in his arms and throwing you over his shoulder. Slowly, Geralt carried you up the stairs to a room rented for relaxation.

The wooden planks of the tavern floor creak under your feet as you sway slightly, the alcohol warming your blood. The fire in the hearth casts dancing shadows across the rough-hewn walls, illuminating the faces of the patrons - farmers, merchants, and a few rough-looking mercenaries. The smell of roasted meat and ale hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the faint scent of wood smoke.

You lock eyes with the burly man at the next table who'd been leering at you since you walked in. Something in his gaze - arrogant, entitled - pushes your already short temper over the edge. Before you know it, words are exchanged, voices raised. You feel more than see Geralt tense beside you.

"Leave it," he mutters, his low voice cutting through the noise. But the man laughs, a cruel sound that echoes through the tavern, and you can't back down now.