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“Where do you think you’re going?”
Dandelion paused, then turned to give Geralt what he no doubt thought was a winning smile. “Out-“
“No.” Geralt grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him back inside, tossing him none too gently onto the sofa.
“I’m bored-”
“There’s a pandemic.”
Dandelion scoffed. “You still leave the house-”
“I’m a Witcher,” Geralt said, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t get sick.”
His friend pouted. Dandelion had moved in with him when the Quarantine started, since Geralt’s house was in the middle of nowhere (Dandelion’s apartment was in a busy city). He had to admit that he enjoyed the company, even if he spent most of his days keeping Dandelion out of the run down parts of the house.
“But Geralt-”
“No.”
The man sighed dramatically. “What should I do? I can’t go in half the rooms-”
“I told you, the house is old and could fall apart. Do you want to fall through the floor into the basement?”
Dandelion considered. “Well, if I did you’d have to get me go to the doctor,” he joked. “It’s one way to get out of the house.”
“I’d just call Triss.”
“Fuck.”
Dandelion glanced back toward the front door, but Geralt simply said, “If I catch you going near that door I swear I will lock you in your room.”
He didn’t seem too concerned by the threat, and Geralt remembered that Dandelion gone out through his window as a joke when he’d first moved in, after Geralt had warned him that the floor outside his room was uneven. “If you go out through the window I’ll tie you to the bed.”
That only seemed to delight him. “Oooh! Kinky!”
Geralt rolled his eyes.