[ The hand around his wrist makes him frown, but Geralt's already pulling out of Louis' grasp as the deer's letting go. He's about ready to collect what he's owed and conclude their business—Geralt is not an impatient man, but he is an efficient one—when they appear. Geralt has not, in fact, ever seen a lion up close; to him, its body almost registers as a gryphon first. A trail of runes he can't read climbs its furred leg.
That's new.
He steps in front of the deer. Where the fuck did they come from? The Horizon? First time he's heard of someone going in and popping out with two companions. Which...is a complication he's admittedly not anticipated. And a bit of a problem. He eyes the door, considering if he should simply grab Louis by the scruff and haul him out of here. He's not eager to fend off a wolf and a (bizarrely distinguished) lion with exactly one dagger and one frightened deer by his side. ]
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That's new.
He steps in front of the deer. Where the fuck did they come from? The Horizon? First time he's heard of someone going in and popping out with two companions. Which...is a complication he's admittedly not anticipated. And a bit of a problem. He eyes the door, considering if he should simply grab Louis by the scruff and haul him out of here. He's not eager to fend off a wolf and a (bizarrely distinguished) lion with exactly one dagger and one frightened deer by his side. ]
Friends of yours?