( God bless your yellow Witcher heart, Geralt. The gratitude is plainly telegraphed in his expression. That's the last little piece to make this puzzle whole: a few solid swigs of bathtub hooch.

Once Geralt's in position, he gestures gently where he wants Geralt to put his hands, to grip parts into position so he can work at it with... probably a tool or something, you know, car stuff.

Finished is a strong word. Odds are he'll never really be done working on that house, just like he'll never be done working on this imaginary car. )

Well... yes and no. We got the plumbing done and the roof shingled, siding's good, but I've been thinkin' about ripping up the floorboards and redoing 'em. Jo's been talkin' about sticking a one-horse stable in the back for- some reason, I don't know, it's not like we've even got anything to put in it right now.

( Speaking of which-

He straightens up and points a wrench (or something) at Geralt. )

Hey, by the way- you shot my horse. Dude. Not cool.