[He has to give it to Geralt; he's the only guy who would approach the panther and give her a scratch like she was a housecat (especially after she tried to shank Thancred. Sorry, buddy.) She doesn't seem to mind him -- or maybe it's 'cause Nero hardly minds Geralt at all, not coming into his domain or killin' his demons. That's the fun of it.

Still too bad, though. Nero would get a kick out of hunting with him in the Free Cities. Maybe if Solvunn ever stops being so insular, but... it ain't just their problem.]

Hey, you're gonna leave me hangin'? [Or -- you know, it strikes him Geralt's weird as hell and old, maybe he's a bit out of touch. Wouldn't surprise him. (The pat on his shoulder feels good, though.) He catches up by his side, holding his fist out. And then he grabs Geralt's hand, bumping their knuckles together.]

Of mine? I don't make 'em, I just kill 'em. [He takes a sit next to the Witcher, and pauses. Huh. It occurs to him --] I guess I know who made it. Just one more demon who couldn't hold up on the path to world domination, or whatever.