She's not on her feet quick enough for his liking. Geralt makes a decision and simply hauls her up with the ease of someone righting a toppled stool, taking the weight she can't hold herself. He'll carry her if he must, but not until then. Something tells him she'd rather not.

"Come on." They can determine what's wrong when they aren't out in the open.

As fortune would have it, the scattered cabins and homes haven't crumbled to dust. Abandoned, yes, but standing. He twists open the door and gets them both inside. Gets her seated before she collapses again.

His hands are slick with blood, flecks of red staining his hair, when he silently thrusts a canteen of water at Jo.