[If he was already in good spirits before, her story -- which he believes one hundred percent, by the way -- nearly has him laughing a stitch into his side.] Stop, stop! Oh, you're terrible.

[As if he hadn't tortured his own professors he couldn't stand. But he was a good, upstanding student, of course. Never did a bad thing in his life.] No wonder Geralt loves you so. You're both terrible.

[And it's never been said more affectionately.

The sound she makes is a sound, and it's certainly from a lute, but it's pretty all the same: rife with potential, like unsculpted clay.]

Me? Hmm. [He plucks the same note on the lute, showing how her thumb should move across it. At least her nails are already longer. It'll make it easier.] Despite appearances, I do like mine to be simple. I wish you could have seen Filavadrel's lute! It was a beautiful honey color, with gold filigree knots. Simple, but elegant.

[And yet she lay at the Oxenfurt harbor, crushed to splinters.] Perhaps silver this time for me, too. I don't feel much like gold anymore.