Roar aside, it's not the voice that catches his attention, but the combination of a heartbeat and a scent that he can vaguely place. His head is cocked, listening. He looks up as Estinien draws near.

Ah. Of course. The one place he stops in. His own brow lifts. Wings are new. He doesn't ask since when the elf sprouted those. Himeka had not mentioned them, but he's gathered what Himeka deems significant information isn't always as expected.

"I'd hate to disappoint." There's a pointed dryness in his words, or perhaps that's just how he always sounds.

He can't say no to the sheep nosing at him, though. Geralt produces a handful of berries. Do they eat berries? Doesn't matter; that's what they're getting. The only thing he knows about sheep is they graze on grass and need to be sheered.

"I wasn't aware these were yours," he adds. He'd not stopped in to speak to Estinien, in other words. In case the elf thought he might be here for a reason.