Despite his otherwise lack of a reaction, Geralt's gaze tracks the path of her axe until it plants steadily onto the ground. Under the overcast sky, his irises shine with an unnatural yellow.
"I tripped," he replies, deadpan as ever. "Fell onto some teeth."
It hasn't been a good decade, in truth, but at least wherever he is? It's got fresh air. It's not been set ablaze. No ghouls trying to chew him apart. There are a few points in its favor. (Only a few.)
When he finds a little glass bottle in his face, there's a pause. Hmm. Can't say it's not a welcome offer. He considers the wisdom of knocking back small liquor bottles from a stranger when he can't exactly trust his sense of smell right now. Tempting, to say fuck it—but he waves it off, getting back to his feet.
"Keep it. Something tells me you'll need it sooner rather than later." Seems they're all here for awhile. He shoulders his bag to carry on. "You have a name?"
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"I tripped," he replies, deadpan as ever. "Fell onto some teeth."
It hasn't been a good decade, in truth, but at least wherever he is? It's got fresh air. It's not been set ablaze. No ghouls trying to chew him apart. There are a few points in its favor. (Only a few.)
When he finds a little glass bottle in his face, there's a pause. Hmm. Can't say it's not a welcome offer. He considers the wisdom of knocking back small liquor bottles from a stranger when he can't exactly trust his sense of smell right now. Tempting, to say fuck it—but he waves it off, getting back to his feet.
"Keep it. Something tells me you'll need it sooner rather than later." Seems they're all here for awhile. He shoulders his bag to carry on. "You have a name?"