Geralt leans down to fetch John's bag (a bit covered in blood, but otherwise all right) and straps it to Roach. Despite the twitching monster nearby, she seems utterly unconcerned with the situation. As much as he'd like to discuss more with John, it's best they return home first. His home, in any case, and soon to become John's.

Temporarily, at least.

"You told me enough to narrow down a direction," he replies. "Caught your scent and followed it."

With him, it really is as simple as that. A man fresh out of Nott smells distinctly of fish and the lakeside waters, neither of which exist out here in the desert. Besides, beyond that, he does know John's scent, the one that uniquely belongs to the man and none other. Knows it quite well.

He grabs the saddle and swings his leg over his horse. Then he offers John a hand up.