[Stephen had not considered himself a spoiled traveler, having left those days of all the excess comfort money could buy long behind him. But that was before he committed himself to a weeks-long journey trekking across the terrain of Thorne. Before he had to endure the reality of riding horseback from point A to point B, distances that were rarely short, with the roads always uneven. It isn't so much that he wasn't made for it, rather that his body simply wasn't acclimated to it, each bump and jostle making his bones feel like cracked porcelain. He already had begun to ache, and though he knew there was still a long way to go, his pride is no longer bloated enough to not request a wagon ride when the opportunity presents.

So, yes, he sits nestled among the supplies at the back of the wagon, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. He holds open a book as they ride, one that he indeed picked up at Hayle; though it had been a shame they couldn't stay longer, there was little to no chance Stephen would not indulge himself in the university bookshop, expanding his knowledge of their theories and practice of magic, if even by an incremental amount.

Yennefer's little barb, though, still pierces through his focus. Stephen rolls his eyes, unseen, both unashamed and resigned to the jokes that were fated to follow.]

Ha ha. Laugh it up.

[Sarcasm. He turns a page of his book.]

I lived in New York City. I know that doesn't mean anything to the two of you, but we didn't travel by horse anywhere. Our modes of transportation were much more terrifying, but at least I could walk the day after.

[He will never complain about public transit ever again.]