The good news is that most of the extraneous details aren't respawning now that she's awake. She hasn't regained full control yet -- even as she sits there, sore and groggy, a large glass of water appears on the table next to her without any conscious effort. But at least the leak, as it were, seems to have slowed down. She grabs the glass and chugs half of it before she takes the bowl and vial.

"What is it?" she asks, voice a bit less raspy. She doesn't wait for a response before she uncorks it and downs the contents. She knows Geralt well enough to know he wouldn't carry anything made by anyone besides himself or Nadine.

For a moment, Julie just sort of blinks down at the stew, the bowl balanced in her lap atop her folded legs. She's not hungry; her body hurts too much and her mind is still too muddled to focus on the fact that she technically hasn't eaten anything in nearly three weeks now. Through no fault of Geralt's, the stew does nothing to stimulate her appetite.

She eats a spoonful anyway.