Who: Liv & Geralt What: Drinks between associates When: Around the end of August Where: McNally's Rating/Warning: Pretty low, Liv is on drunk brain~ Status: Complete!
Liv was about to head home for a day, or actually to a bar. That was just how her days were going lately, thank you brain. Luckily the guy she ate was a happy drunk which was good. With her recent break up Liv didn’t need anymore depression.
Before heading straight to the bar though, she made a quick stop upstairs at the station. Just to see if there was anything new on the guy’s case. She got rather attached to each brain she ate, needing to make sure they got justice. Unfortunately there were still no new developments.
Yeah, definitely time for a drink.
As she was heading out she spotted Geralt getting ready to leave as well. “Hey!” Liv called out making her way over to him. She hadn’t hung out with him too much outside of work but it never hurt to get in good with the detectives. She could sometimes convince them to take her to the crime scenes. That usually helped triggering visions. Plus drinking alone every day was just getting sad. She was over being sad. “Come have a drink with me.” No, she wasn’t asking. This was going to happen.
Olivia Moore was strange.
He wasn’t oblivious. That’d be a shit trait for a detective - someone whose job was to observe, interpret and put together traces and clues - so there were certain things he was bound to notice. Conflicting behaviors, odd appearance. He didn’t think it too suspicious and if she was hiding something then what the hell was it his business for?
Geralt never poked much or asked around.
But they were at the very least amicable - sometimes people were taken aback by his aloofness, stone-etched features and dry comments. Sometimes people were around him enough to get used to it, and understand that he wasn’t an eternal sourpuss. She was one of them.
“Uh -” He had finished adjusting his blazer when she called out to him (he really hated the business professional dress code of his fucking profession, his clothes always felt so goddamn stiff), patting his pockets to make sure his wallet was there, badge, so forth. At least he had nothing pressing for the evening, but he didn’t think he could remember a time the two of them out for happy hour. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got no plans. What’s the occasion?”
If you asked Liv, Geralt really needed to get out more. And what better way than going for drinks? Granted she didn’t know too much about what he did in his personal time, but she had never really seen him out. Even when she wasn’t consuming the brain of an alcoholic Liv had gone out for drinks with some of the guys after work. Geralt never seemed to be one of them. No time like the present.
“It’s Tuesday,” Liv replied with a smirk. Did they really need a reason? “And work is done.” There, that was a better reason. More acceptable at least. “I’ll even give you a ride in case you get too wasted.” She certainly wouldn’t. Alcohol didn’t really do anything for her. Even if she would act drunk thanks to the brain.
He wondered if this was therapeutic drinking from a hard day at the job but, no, guess not. Geralt didn’t see the harm in it, regardless. “Good of an excuse as anything else,” he shrugged and pulled the ring of keys out from his pocket. “But I can hold my liquor fine - years of experience. You sure you won’t need a ride?”
Considering she was the most enthusiastic about imbibing. Something told him to keep a close eye on her. That tilt of her mouth could only spell out impending trouble, perhaps.
Liv may look tiny, but she knew she had a better tolerance to alcohol than Geralt. Of course she couldn’t say that. He didn’t know what she was. She wasn’t even sure if he was a dreamer. It was difficult enough to share with dreamers, let alone non-dreamers.
“I’m sure,” Live replied with a smirk. “But fine, if you insist I’ll meet you there.” She certainly wouldn’t force him to go in her car. “McNally’s,” she added so he knew where to meet her. “Don’t forget, I know where you work.” Her veiled threat to make sure he showed.
What was she going to do, frame pictures of President McFuckface all over his sorry excuse for a cubicle desk? Geralt revealed a flicker of a smirk - alright, then. Liv was in one of those sassy moods. He could go up for a couple hours of entertainment.
He knew the place in question so he went to his vehicle - a pickup truck, bronze and pristine (he did a lot of outdoor projects, so the carrying capacity was a must) with a set of fuzzy emerald dice on the rearview mirror - revved it up, and head that way. It didn’t take him long to get there, and he waited for her to make her appearance before he went inside.
It didn’t take long for Liv to get to the bar. She didn’t look around for Geralt’s car in the parking lot, not that she even knew what he drove. She had never paid much attention. Liv just headed straight for the bar. Now that it was in proximity all she cared about was getting a drink.
Christ. Someone was thirsty. Liv’s appearance was distinct enough to be easily trailed through the crowd, and there were empty seats at the bar for them to occupy - he took one for himself and flagged the bartender over.
“Guinness, draft,” he ordered. Beer was safe. There were no intentions of lining up shots on the bar and knocking them back like sorority girls - for Geralt, anyway. He actually didn’t know Olivia well to figure out what type she’d be but from his experience, her moods kind of ping-ponged all over the place. Bipolar, maybe? Unbalanced medication? Fuck if he knew. “So is this where everyone meets up after a day’s work? Here?”
Geralt had actually shown up. Part of Liv wasn’t so sure he would. Once they were seated at the bar and Geralt had ordered his drink Liv ordered herself a Spicy Baby - extra jalapenos. Liv had a thing for spicy drinks, or anything spicy. It was the only thing she could taste. Once that was taken care of she turned her attention to Geralt.
“Usually,” she answered honestly. “You’ve never come out before?” She had assumed as much considering she didn’t see him, but she didn’t exactly go out every time the others did. Sometimes Liv actually had work to do. Or she wanted to do something else based on whatever she ate that week.
Interesting choice. Geralt wasn’t all that familiar with all those unique assortment of cocktails, but that had to be the strangest concoction he’d ever seen. “Not really,” he admitted with a slight shrug, sipping his drink - thick, malty, a little bit of foam at the top. “I don’t get invited out much, and most of the time when I do I’m wrapped up in something else.”
There were colleagues he went out with sometimes - Eskel, Lambert, charming pricks in their own way - but for the most part he was the definition of lone wolf. Generally kept to himself, spoke to no one unless it was work-related. He was trying to change that; every now and again he could sense the disappointment in Ciri’s voice when they caught up over the phone how he wasn’t up to anything remarkable outside of work.
“What’s the protocol, typically? Bitch about co-workers, relationships, home situations?”
Liv’s assumption had been right. He did need to get out more. She was actually a bit honest that she had been the one to drag him out. Although she had no idea if anyone else had managed to before. Especially while she was gone. She was still just going to assume it was all her.
“Not the co-workers. They are usually around,” Liv smirked taking a sip of her drink. Nice and spicy. “But the rest, sometimes. Or even cases. Which would you like to bitch about?” Might as well give him first choice, considering she hadn’t exactly given him a choice about coming out.
Good question. Geralt had no relationship to wax poetic about - except there’d been an encounter (a few) with the latest administrative assistant of the office, but he wasn’t one to discuss those details. Not when he wanted to practice a degree of discretion and professionalism. His home, then? Hm. Nothing remarkable aside from his daughter fleeing the nest.
Co-workers? God, he didn’t need the catty gossip.
“Instead of the bitching,” he started, leaning back against the stool with large arms crossed - he was a surly, grizzled mass of a mountainous man, broad-shouldered and muscled. “How about I get to know you a little? Turns out we’ve been working around each other for so long I know jack shit. Hell, I remember seeing you around when your hair wasn’t so…white.”
Ah right. Back when she was human. Liv had no idea if Geralt was a dreamer or not so she couldn’t exactly explain how it had come from dreams. She took a sp of her drink to buy time while she thought of how to reply. Well that and she just really wanted to drink.
“Is that your first question? Why I changed my hair color? You only get twenty,” she teased. “And you know this means I get to find out more about you too.” It was only fair. “It is about time we got to know one another.” Maybe she could even convince Geralt to start taking her to crime scenes. Had to trigger those visions some how.
“Technically never asked why you changed your hair color,” countered the detective, a lone brow rising. “Just pointing out an obvious change.” What her hair appointments entailed were her business, not like he gave an actual fuck - but Geralt noticed changes, odd behavior. Liv had a few instances that came to mind.
But, again, that was her business. If she wanted to dish the details and satiate his curiosity, feel free. “There’s not much about me to know - work’s my spouse, I’ve a daughter who’s out and about seeing the world. I’m boring, sorry to disappoint.” His past was a little colorful, though those details were tucked away.
He did have a point there. Damn him and his detective skills. Making a statement seem like a question. She should be used to it by now, know all the tricks. She had been around detectives for long enough. Good thing he wasn’t forcing an answer though. She had a feeling he wouldn’t understand. Even if she just said that it was due to dreams. She was pretty sure if Geralt was a dreamer she would have known by now.
“A daughter?” That actually shocked Liv. She never pictured Gerald being a father. In fact, she didn’t picture Geralt’s life outside of work at all. “That’s not boring at all. How old is she?” Obviously old enough to travel the world. How old was Geralt?
There was a picture of Cirilla (Ciri for short, and she preferred that) on his desk - the only personal belonging of his that served as a decorative ornament for his work area. Some knew, but none ever really asked either. Most of the time they were too afraid to poke Geralt with personal questions. He didn’t exude friendliness, not usually.
There was a smile on his mouth, a ghost of one that was maybe full of a little fatherly pride? “Eighteen,” he answered. “And I’ll clarify that she’s not mine biologically - I adopted her when she was around eight. Ten years went by too quick, and instead of going straight into college she wanted to see the world. She’s in touch weekly, having the time of her life.”
He missed her, though. His days were a little less brighter without her wild-child presence.
“Learn something new everyday,” Liv commented taking another sip of her drink. “That’s actually a good idea. Who really knows what they want to do with their life at eighteen?” Well Liv had for one, but it wasn’t exactly like her life turned out the way that she planned. Career included. “I went straight to college, spent all my time studying. I should have lived my life a bit more.” But oh well. Nothing she could do about it now. Besides, she was living a new life every week anyway.
“I wouldn’t have been against her going straight into it,” he said. “But I’d support whatever decision she made as long as it’s within reason - and her going out and sight-seeing before she settled down and figured things out was in the realm of reason for me.” Geralt worried, of course. Sometimes he thought all the silver in his hair was from silently fretting over his only other family, but his daughter was a capable ballbuster. Resourceful, scrappy, and always knowing that he was a phone call away should she ever get into any serious trouble.
Anyway, enough of about him. “What about you? No kids on your end, but you went to Europe recently, didn’t you?”
“It’s nice to take a break.” In Europe gap years were common. It was probably something America should get into if you asked Liv. There was so much pressure on college students these days. Liv knew that all too well, having buckled under the pressure during her residency.
“I did, yeah. Was planning on living there but that didn’t work out,” she shrugged. It didn’t take a detective to figure that out either, considering she was back. “I guess this place is just my home now.” Not to mention the only place she knew about with other dreamers and supernatureal beings.
“Not the most terrible place to call a home, I guess,” Geralt mused, fingers stroking unkempt beard contemplatively - he was raised in California, but he hadn’t really called this area his home until he had someone that made it feel like home. “Sorry Europe didn’t work out for you, but cheers to this place being old reliable, hm?”
Liv wouldn’t exactly say Orange County felt like home. She had a home once, back in Seattle. But after everything that happened she had to leave that life behind. She wasn’t sure she would even call Seattle home anymore. That was enough thinking about that though. This was her life now and she wanted to enjoy getting to know her hermit coworker. “I’ll drink to that,” Liv smirked raising her glass to clink against his.
Maybe this could be the start of a new friendship. Or at least more than just coworkers that occasionally nodded at each other.