[ That's more like it. Ciri raises her eyebrows at the bottle, something like amusement crossing her face that almost makes it into a smile. She reaches for it gratefully and unceremoniously takes a swig; it burns all the way down, makes her eyes water, and she comes up for air with a shudder and a gasp. ]

That's the stuff. [ She sets the bottle down with a thud between them on the table. ] Better than I expected it to taste.

[ Geralt's quip about Jaskier's misconception actually earns him a snort of laughter. Ciri shakes her head, chasing up the vodka with the rest of her bread. ]

We could all use it, I think. But-- shit. [ Ciri rakes her hands through her bangs, shoving them aside. ] I can't believe he just walked around miserable over something so ridiculous for weeks.

[ In fairness, if he'd been right, and he'd asked-- what would she have even said? What can she tell them? Is the future set in stone? Is destiny?

Ciri swears under her breath and reaches for the bottle again. ]