[The line is so close to an order that he finally glances at his companion, curious. Should it not? It's already sort of been a long-term thing. (Except one he can pinpoint the exact moment he started reaching for a bottle instead of... of anything else. Instead of a warm body or a blank page and a full ink.)

Alucard may have a point.]

So, bejeweled rings next? [The swallow stands up to go closer to his plate. Carefully, he spoons a little pile of rice onto the table for it to pluck at. (It is, of course, discouraged gently away from the chicken.)

He does manage a bite of it, which is more than he's eaten in. Mm. Maybe a day or two. He's not sure. The wine fills an empty bell either way, but, credit to Alucard's palate, because it does taste rather good.

And normally that was enough for him. Company, and good food -- there would be wine, but something expensive, meant to be savored. Not downed as fast as possible.]

Geralt said the same thing. You know, in his own way. Sort of. [He pushes a bit of chicken around, back and forth, with a finger.] It sounds like bullshite to me. The sort of thing you say when someone's dog's been run over by a horse, and you know that pain never goes away. Especially funny, coming from a couple of immortals.

[He wishes that his dog was run over by a horse. That seems rather easy to deal with in comparison.] At least Hector could bring my dog back.

[Yes, he sort of ruined the simile. Still.] And do you ever figure out how much time it takes?