"Perhaps we should do some meditation together, Kell. If anyone is good at constant stillness, it would be me." Istredd is unshakeably focused most of the time. He can sit for hours doing his work or meditating and training. He is far from lazy and impulsive, he is calm and determined. He is the person who can stay level in the middle of insanity; he proved that much in the Pit, almost to the very end.

Istredd can see in Kell the same way he was at his age. Hungry for approval and to prove himself to his teachers, to the world, to himself. Over time he's been kinder to his young self in his memory. When first disgruntled by Stregobor and the others, he hated how wide-eyed he'd been, but he understands it now. And it's giving him sympathy pains for Kell right then.

"Myself too," he confirms. Istredd had been so positive telling the elves about Ciri was the right thing to do. She was destined to be their savior and they were suffering, they were being killed. Surely they deserved to be saved. Now all he can see is his mistake.

"I'm not interested in getting back on the dance floor, but how about a drink?" He ruffles Kell's hair gently.