Oh, doing swell. Just, you know, keepin' in shape.
[Nero takes the offered hand, shooting Shadow a glare from over Geralt's substantial shoulder. By the time Nero gets back to his feet, the wound is mostly gone, but he's still covered in blood.
Part of the reality. He could wish it away, but -- honestly, Nero doesn't think that way. So here he is, meeting Geralt, covered in blood again.
It's like some things never change.]
You worried about me, old man? [He smiles, clapping Geralt on the shoulder.] Fit as a fuckin' fiddle.
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[Nero takes the offered hand, shooting Shadow a glare from over Geralt's substantial shoulder. By the time Nero gets back to his feet, the wound is mostly gone, but he's still covered in blood.
Part of the reality. He could wish it away, but -- honestly, Nero doesn't think that way. So here he is, meeting Geralt, covered in blood again.
It's like some things never change.]
You worried about me, old man? [He smiles, clapping Geralt on the shoulder.] Fit as a fuckin' fiddle.