[ An extra long moment passes as Geralt stares right back. He can tell there's something going on, but he can't grasp what it might be, why she has that look in her eyes as though he's told her to keep a lookout for a pink feathered dragon. It simply doesn't occur to him that someone hasn't ever seen a damn wolf in their life.
Hm. ]
Not fond of wolves?
[ He senses that isn't it; it's just the only thing he can think of to ask—though if she really won't say what's going on, he isn't going to press. She'll find her way around one way or another. The keep isn't difficult to spot at a distance, either. ]
no subject
Hm. ]
Not fond of wolves?
[ He senses that isn't it; it's just the only thing he can think of to ask—though if she really won't say what's going on, he isn't going to press. She'll find her way around one way or another. The keep isn't difficult to spot at a distance, either. ]