Doooooon't. I know what you're thinking, how you're doing that -- that thing. [That thing. She knows. They've been here before. They've been here before and it is seemingly impossible, considering it's Yennefer, of all people. Possibly one of the least empathetic witches out there.

And yet.]

The Countess de Stael. [Is who comes to mind first, because she is sorely one of the first women to truly break his heart.] The -- The Duchess of Toussaint was a fling, nothing more. A one -- or four-night thing. Hardly a trifle.

[But he remembers her, very exquisitely. And he did go back. After those first few nights. Or -- so the rumours said.]

Why? Because yours are so much more dire, or because you're so bloody old? [He smiles back at her as he takes a sip of the newly poured wine, more sour than the last... and perfectly what he wants.] Yooou don't want to admit we're alike. I get it. I would have rather cut out my tongue years ago than admit such a thing. I can grow. [Accompanied by his closed hand opening, like a flower blooming.] Life is all about growing.

[Somewhere, hidden in all of those useless words is this: thank you for listening. I needed this.]