Geralt heard Lucien's knocks and his voice while the wine bottle was still vertical. He lowered it, slowly, and smiled as he swallowed the mouthful of alcohol. "Speak of the Angel..." he said quietly to himself, then set the bottle on the table and slowly stood before making his way to the door. He took his time, running a hand through his hair which he knew was messy, and straightening his vest, shirt, and tie, which he knew were loose and wrinkled.

Before he opened the door, he cleared his throat and blinked. He'd been preparing for this talk all night, but was taken slightly aback by the speed at which Lucien wanted to discuss things. Normally, Geralt would make himself scarce a this point, not sure he was in the mood to be questioned, but he knew that leaving now would only make things worse. Best to rip the bandage off, he supposed.

When he opened the door, he did not smile, but kept his expression neutral. It was clear that he was drunk, if not by the smell of wine and brandy, then by his disheveled appearance, but he didn't care. He was a grown man, and Lucien had not staked his claim, therefore he had no say in the Magician's activities. Unless they interfered with work, of course....

[color=crimson]"Evening, Lucien. Or..."[/color] he paused and leaned forward to look at the sky, [color=crimson]"Should I say morning?"[/color] The sky was still dark, but he knew that it was well-passed midnight and his bedtime. He could tell immediately the Lucien was angry, this was an expression he had never seen on the man before. Despite the fact that he was feeling a little defensive, he couldn't help but be aroused by it. If this is what the Nephilim's brow looked like furrowed...well, he wasn't sure it was such a bad thing.

[color=crimson]"Feel free to come in,"[/color] he said, stepping aside and holding an arm out for Lucien to pass. [color=crimson]"Must be cold out there, judging by your...demeanor."[/color] He really shouldn't joke, but he couldn't help it, the Ringleader was making it far too easy.