[ He can usually sense when Dean's thoughts are brewing, and Geralt lets him take his time. He's not planning to change Dean's mind. Dean is right that if he thought he had to, he wouldn't be here in the first place. But the natural hesitance is something he can understand; he remembers Istredd asking, Is that when your dislike of mages began?, and he cannot deny that his first instinct is to be wary of the sorcerers and sorceresses who wander the Continent and its courts. It's too ingrained in his history.

He doesn't note that it makes no difference whether it's by teeth or sword; someone winds up dead, and every Witcher has his share of bodies. That isn't the point. This isn't the first time Dean's mentioned being held responsible, and the more he's come to know his friend, the more he begins to grasp the root of that fear.

He supposes the world feels different when your name has been etched in prophecies. ]

They could, [ he replies mildly. So could many people. Thorne actually has levelled a city. ] And if that happens, it'll fall on my shoulders as much as yours. [ They've all made the choice to be here. He reaches deep into the brush, emerging with one of the rounded melons. ] Until then, we came to save a few lives. Not to look for a reason to take them.