[ Let it be said that Nero specifically inspires at least ten percent more fucks out of him than the average person. (He means this with fondness, or inasmuch as Geralt feels fondness for Nero. Which, admittedly, is not a small amount. Though he will not say it out loud.)
He doesn't bother flicking the gore stuck to his hair or skin as he makes his way to Nero, leaning down to pat the big cat on the head as he does. Unlike house cats, she seems to tolerate him. Or perhaps Nero simply isn't aware of a cat's dislike of Witchers to imbue her with the same trait.
The outstretched fist receives a look. He pauses. What the fuck is he meant to do with this gesture? (Possibly, he may have witnessed Sam doing it at some point. Vaguely.) After another second, he just. Pats Nero on the shoulder and moves past him to sit down. ]
no subject
He doesn't bother flicking the gore stuck to his hair or skin as he makes his way to Nero, leaning down to pat the big cat on the head as he does. Unlike house cats, she seems to tolerate him. Or perhaps Nero simply isn't aware of a cat's dislike of Witchers to imbue her with the same trait.
The outstretched fist receives a look. He pauses. What the fuck is he meant to do with this gesture? (Possibly, he may have witnessed Sam doing it at some point. Vaguely.) After another second, he just. Pats Nero on the shoulder and moves past him to sit down. ]
What was that creature? Another demon of yours?