Eivor watches him sit, planting the head of her Dane axe into the ground, swinging the weapon off her shoulder in one smooth, practiced motion. She sees the cloth around his leg. "Been blooded recently, aye?" She asks. And then dropped into the icy waters off the cliffs. This has probably not been a good day for him.

"I disembarked myself. The ride was dull, and I prefer the wind in my face." Normally that's either on horseback or hanging off the aft of the Drakkar, but deprived of those things here, she'll walk a bit. Plenty of sun left in the day.

"I would offer you some clean linens for that bite, but I'm afraid I have none to give." Instead she flips open a pouch on her belt and pulls out a small bottle of brandy. The mini-bar had been inviting and she'd been happy to pillage it before she stepped off. "But this might dull the ache a bit." She offers the bottle to Geralt.