[ He shifts, resting one hand on the table, slowly unwinding as he comes back into himself. A hush falls over the place—whether it's only for himself or not, the music has quieted, a low thrum in the background at most.
He traces an idle path down her leg. ] You can insist.
[ Because he's willing, with her. There's an ease between them he finds in complete strangers often, but far less so with someone who knows him as she does. And maybe she doesn't know him well, in the grand scheme of things—a fraction, really, of the pieces that make him up—but to Geralt, it's well enough when he shares so little of himself as it is. Well enough that he doesn't think of her as a stranger. ]
no subject
He traces an idle path down her leg. ] You can insist.
[ Because he's willing, with her. There's an ease between them he finds in complete strangers often, but far less so with someone who knows him as she does. And maybe she doesn't know him well, in the grand scheme of things—a fraction, really, of the pieces that make him up—but to Geralt, it's well enough when he shares so little of himself as it is. Well enough that he doesn't think of her as a stranger. ]