Geralt had spent some precious few coins on two new swords. His old ones were trusty, and he'd keep them forever, but it got to the point where he didn't really think it was safe to fight with them anymore. Lambert had gone with him to make the purchase. The younger Witcher needed to stock up in some potions, and you know what? Even if Geralt would never admit it, he didn't actually mind the company.
"Hey," Lambert said. "Why don't you buy Jaskier a sword too?"
Jaskier had been staying at Kaer Morhen with Geralt and the others. And everyone had for the most part gotten used to his...antics, let's say.
At that, though, Geralt made a face. "Fuck no."
Lambert rose an eyebrow. Jaskier and Geralt had an interesting relationship. They fucked frequently, yeah, but there was something else--something deeper--going on too. "But why? He could learn how to actually use it and protect himself!"
"That’s what I’m afraid of. A dagger is bad enough." Geralt said grimly. When he'd first started traveling with him, not leaving him alone, he'd taught him basic self defense of course. But this was something different. "If he gets a sword, the pile of bodies behind him will only grow bigger."
That could mean a few things...
Lambert stared at him. Should he be scared. "...how do you sleep at night?"
"With a smile."
Well. That sounded like it summed up Geralt, at least.