[ His lips tilt upward very faintly. He is watching Ciri, though, in that manner wherein he sort of is always watching anything Ciri does. When it comes to himself, Geralt is largely humouring this to kill time and because it's a rare thing, after a hundred years, that he finds the opportunity to learn a new game. Or to learn anything new at all.
But the undeniably paternal instinct in him wants to see Ciri give Dean a run for his coin.
He takes the stick from Ciri and lines himself up in much the same manner. His aim is impeccable, but beyond that, he's never had much reason to give any deep consideration to the angle of ricocheting projectiles. Not really a factor that helps him kill monsters. Similar to Ciri, it's a casual shot—one that errs on the side of caution, so he doesn't, mm. Send the balls flying wholly off the table. Or lamp their designated instructor in the head. ]
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But the undeniably paternal instinct in him wants to see Ciri give Dean a run for his coin.
He takes the stick from Ciri and lines himself up in much the same manner. His aim is impeccable, but beyond that, he's never had much reason to give any deep consideration to the angle of ricocheting projectiles. Not really a factor that helps him kill monsters. Similar to Ciri, it's a casual shot—one that errs on the side of caution, so he doesn't, mm. Send the balls flying wholly off the table. Or lamp their designated instructor in the head. ]