abraxas:: INBOX

[gynvael]

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Geralt is always reachable by the network. Unless it's an emergency, expect not to hear back for a few hours, if not a few days.

To talk to him in person, you'll need to be in Cadens or go to his domain, a snowy mountain fortress. Yard is open; doors are locked. If he isn't around, leave a delivery with the white wolf.

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[gynvael]

You fuss overly much.

[ Said with some affection. ]

I will be sure to invite you next time.

[iustise]

[“Overly much”? Wow, excuse you!]

Need I remind you that I have a twenty-year-old son whose true father is none other than James Fraser himself.

[Has he shared that before? Well he’s doing so now, oops.]

You and I both are lucky I survived his teenage years. I will have you know I have learned to fuss just enough as is warranted. Through experience.

In other words, please do, yes.

[gynvael]

Only if I can remind you I am neither your son nor twenty.
But for the sake of your ailing heart, I'll leave word.

[iustise]

No, you are not, and I am sufficiently grateful for both facts. Though the pair of you certainly do have enough in common to keep me en grade.

[Grumble, grumble. Now that he knows you are safe, the worry is drying up and leaving him snippy.]

For such an effort of traveling so far afield for your ingredients, I am now expecting something particularly delicious, I will have you know.

[Well. Not too snippy that he cannot still flirt from afar.]

[gynvael]

[ Possibly, Geralt is smiling to himself from afar. John's grumbling is both typical and, unfortunately, endearing. ]

I'd hate to let you down.