Geralt couldn't help but tilt his head and raise an eyebrow at Lucien's response. He was definitely the leader of this troupe, his confidence and demeanor told Geralt that much. He would certainly draw the eye of a crowd, he had an abundance of natural charm that seemed to be lacking from most men these days. Geralt more than appreciated someone who could equal him verbally, but it only made him crave Lucien more. He wondered if the Frenchman would be able to equal him in other ways as well.

He leaned back slightly when Lucien finished speaking, [color=crimson]"Well, well, well...with words as sweet as those, how could I ever refuse? Although, you know what they say about magic..."[/color] Geralt had slowly tilted his head as he spoke, and when he pulled his hand away from the couch, the scarf that had been draped over the lamp before appeared between his fingers as if it had been stuck between the cushions. He took it and stretched it across his chest, then tossed it into the air with a flourish to show that it was, indeed, and ordinary scarf. He then held his hand up, palm open to the ceiling as he glanced at Ivory, then laid the scarf over his palm. [color=crimson]"...it's all just a trick..."[/color] he continued, and the beneath the scarf a light began to glow, then the scarf began to swell of it's own accord as the light grew brighter and brighter, illuminating the space around Geralt. [color=crimson]"...of the light..."[/color] He finished, and pulled the scarf from his hand with a quick motion to reveal a handful of fire. 

The flames danced against his bare skin, and he held them there as the light shifted around his face and in his eyes, moving his fingers rhythmically with the tendrils of flame. He looked over at Lucien and Ivory, clearly pausing for dramatic effect, before raising his palm to his lips and blowing the flame out. Instead of disappearing, however, it burst into two distinct shapes which fluttered toward the two like butterflies of flame. They split and floated, one toward Lucien, and one toward Ivory, and then folded into smoke and drifted away.

Through this display, Geralt stood behind the couch, unbuttoned shirt and unkempt hair, looking like he belonged on the stage.

[color=crimson]"So, what do you think, do I make the cut?"[/color] He directed his words and his gaze towards Ivory, curious most to see her reaction to this foreplay.