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The door had barely opened when Geralt froze in his tracks, one hand stuck on the handle and the other already reaching up to cover his ears.
Well, ear. Even a single one would do.
“It’s karaoke night. Let’s go elsewhere.”
He could barely hear himself over the cacophony of cheers, boos, general chatter and dulcet tones of whoever was absolutely slaughtering Queen right now, but his brothers were typically unsympathetic.
“Geralt, we just got here. Let’s at least have one drink.”
“Karaoke? Fuck yeah, we’re staying.”
Geralt ends up at a karaoke night against his will, where a certain 'Julek' is used to bringing the house down. Perhaps they both get more than they bargained for...