[ Happy? Geralt turns, expression vaguely perplexed. Yes, he's well aware Istredd likes him fine, and Geralt has graduated from tolerating the mage to seeking out his company beyond times that are absolutely necessary. On occasion.

But Geralt is, perhaps, accustomed to demonstrations of friendship being a little less explicit, a little more unspoken. With the exception of Jaskier, he simply comes to learn who he can rely on and as time goes on, he gathers they feel the same way. And that's all that needs to be done about it. It seems a waste of time to linger on the minutiae of allyship or friendship or however one wishes to call it.

In fact, Jaskier is the only one who has truly prodded him about the question of his happiness. It remains a topic Geralt has not answered. He isn't sure he ever will.

Eventually, his reply comes, brusque as always but without much of an edge. ] You should worry about yourself.

[ A pause. ]

I know you haven't plans to abandon Thorne if you can help it. But... [ He reaches over the ledge of stone and plucks a leather pouch from his pile of clothes. The coins inside clink gently. ] There's no harm in accounting for contingencies.

[ There is duty and there is sheer foolishness. He should like to believe Istredd knows the difference. In any case, when he turns away to sink back into the water, it's clear Geralt is not interested in leaving room for argument. ]

Give it to the girl if you won't have it.