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Geralt was aware that he kept weird things in his fridge. It was part of the job, after all, always having bits of monster guts to study or ingredients for potions on hand. He didn’t give it a second thought. Drowner brains in the fridge was normal, right?
So he didn’t think twice when Dandelion moved in, didn’t even think to warn him about the contents of the fridge. It wasn’t as though Dandelion cooked, after all, Geralt knew for a fact that the man lived off take out and microwave food. Geralt mostly handled making food - not just because he had a limit on how much pizza he could consume, but also because he enjoyed cooking - which meant it took quite a while for Dandelion to venture into the fridge.
Geralt was reading in the living room when he heard a shout, and within seconds he was stumbling into the kitchen, a knife in his hand.
“What the fuck is this?” demanded Dandelion, waving a paper bag at Geralt.
“A dead-”
“I know that!” He threw the bag at him, then rushed to the sink to wash his hands. “Why is that in your fridge?!”
Geralt put the bag back in the fridge. “It had a label,” he pointed out, adjusting the bag to make sure that the label - “dead dove do not eat” - was visible.
“It had a label- fuck you Geralt! You have a dead bird in your fridge!”
Geralt shrugged. “Monster bait.”