[ The townhouse is gloomy and imposing; something about being down an occupant adds to the dreary cold. Soon it'll change. Gwen'll take a proverbial hatchet to the thing with decor, they'll find another roommate, and life'll go on, since Geralt isn't going to explode.
Knock knock. Smells like a vampire.
The door opens silently and there stands Geralt, in a loose knit robe over his smallclothes. ]
...
[ She's staring out at the street. He can practically feel the anxiety. ]
no subject
Knock knock. Smells like a vampire.
The door opens silently and there stands Geralt, in a loose knit robe over his smallclothes. ]
...
[ She's staring out at the street. He can practically feel the anxiety. ]
Boo.