Chapter Text
Iorveth had intended to slip in for the night, grab some dinner and a beer and cash in on the favor that the owner had owed him for a room.
He’d mostly just come to one of the few taverns left in Novigrad that he knew was at least neutral to the Scoiatael, wanted posters and all.
What he had forgotten about being in cities rather than the forests was the prevalence of obnoxious drunks. Obnoxious human drunks especially.
Like the one who had stumbled his way to the table Iorveth was sitting at, flipping through a book, trying stay as inconspicuous as possible.
By the look of his clothes, and his size, he probably had money, and a good bit of it.
Iorveth wanted him to go away.
But it was clear that that wasn’t going to happen. Iorveth could smell the alcohol sweating off of him.
“Say elf, you look like you might be lookin’ for a good time.”
Iorveth could tell this wasn’t going to be a pleasant chat.
“I might be human but what’s it to you?
“Welllll, there’s a very interesting gentleman offering his services up. Something about paying for an army or something.”
His words slurred.
“Might be kinda nice for you to get some payback, you know for all the killing and stuff.”
The man gestured to a thin, surly, and very familiar looking commander, nursing a drink in the corner.
“Oh?”
It couldn’t fucking be.
But iorveth was pretty sure that it was.
“Also. If you do decide to have a lil’ fun. Ya’ wanna really know how to make him squeal?”
“How’s that?”
Iorveth almost felt dirty asking the question. It seemed improper, inappropriate even.
The drunkard grinned. “Cover his eyes up. He don’t like that at all.”
Iorveth did feel dirty.
He needed to figure out what the hell was going on, so he made a beeline towards Vernon Roche.
“Two whiskies please.”
Iorveth gestured with two fingers, as he sat down at the table.
The little bit of color that was left in Roche’s face drained.
“Iorveth.”
Roche looked like hell, he was thin, he had lost weight since their fight in the forests of Flotsam. And it only emphasised the dark circles underneath his eyes.
He took a sip of the whiskey.
Iorveth noticed that he was in his full dress uniform, it was still somehow impeccably pressed, and it bore medals, a lot of them.
He was presenting himself as Vernon Roche, war hero.
Iorveth shuddered internally at the thought of the type of client that that would attract.
“I suppose this is something that would be best taken upstairs.”
Roche’s voice was hoarse.
Iorveth nodded and they made their way up the stairs.
—
Roche felt watched.
He supposed that there was something deeply ironic to Iorveth leading him upstairs, he only hoped that the strange civility that they’d always shown each other on the battlefield translated into the bedroom.
He locked the door shut behind them.
And then they both stood there, waiting for the other to make his next move.
Slowly, Roche began to undo his surcoat.
He wasn’t sure if there was much of a point in trying to make it seductive, he knew exactly what Iorveth was there for.
“What are you doing?” Iorveth’s voice broke through the trance that Roche had gotten himself into.
He always tried to zone out when he was doing this. It was an easy way for him to keep his temper in check, and he’d learned that the more docile that he was the more coin it seemed to get him.
“Huh, oh I suppose you probably wanna do this.”
His surcoat had already fallen to the floor, but Iorveth could still have at the rest of his clothes.
“I would prefer that you not get any more naked. I’m not here for that. You really should know me better.”
It took a lot to make Roche blush at this point in his life, but his cheeks got hot.
“The coin though, you’re not going to pay me just to catch up and chat.”
Iorveth rolled his eye.
“No, but clearly you're hard pressed for the money. Eat something and take the night off. The room’s already paid for. Come find me in the morning, we'll talk then.”
This certainly wasn’t the way that he’d expected his evening to end. And the bed felt almost comfortable, especially considering that he wasn’t being pressed into it.
“Oh, and Vernon.”
“Huh?”
“That one fucker, you know, who likes to cover your eyes?”
Roche couldn’t quite suppress the flinch, he hated having his eyes covered, it always made him feel like he’d been taken prisoner. And he couldn’t always keep his composure when men did it to him, the bitter upside was that when it happened, it at least seemed to increase the amount of money he’d get.
“Don’t worry about him after tonight.” Iorveth closed the door on his way out and Roche stretched out onto the mattress unsure what to make of anything.