He doesn't catch all of it. Doesn't even catch most of it, but he catches enough. The hard edge in Jo's tone that escapes through the partly open door, new name, same monster. The sight of her back, her posture, the way he can distinctly read probably about to hop over the bar and grab the gun under the counter or something.

Puts a little bit of pep in his friggin' step, that's for sure.

"Woah, hey, easy, easy-" it's not a bark, it's a little too placating to be that, but it's definitely a little hard-edged. A few long-legged strides get him across the short distance between the door and her, so he can position himself between her and Geralt with a hand up.

A fleeting pause that only lasts long enough for him to flicker a look back toward Geralt to check-in for less than a second (seems fine, no bloodshed, not about to lose his shit) before his attention's back on her. "Cool your jets. That's Geralt. He's okay, he's a hunter. He's family."