A long silence follows. After over a year, the incident feels distant. Geralt remembers, though. How it felt. The way so fucking much changed in an instant.

"When I arrived on this sphere, I believed Cirilla was lost. That I was unable to save her. Then the memories came." He pauses. "I recall meeting her for the first time twice. Here, as a young woman. And there, as a child fleeing the war through the woods."

He's seldom spoken of the gap between him and Ciri, nor the fact that he didn't know her. Not at the start. He's not forgotten how eager Ciri had been to see him, and how thoroughly hurt she'd looked when he had not recognized her.

The bottle exchanges hands. He can't tell what's on Jo's mind, though he senses there's something. Perhaps this talk of a future, of a life lived in another world, reminds her she hasn't got one.