The absurdity of her question makes him blink (what's he doing here? This is his fucking domain). Then it's gone. His brows furrow deeper. He curls his fingers around the edge of the door frame. The wood whines, splintering.

Geralt stares at her. She shouldn't be here. How did she get here? Logically, he knows it must be the Horizon fucking up. This isn't the first time it's happened, not even the first time today. He's been sent tumbling into spaces he hasn't meant to go, as well. But he can't think straight. All he sees is Jo, here, in a place he has not shared with even those closest to him. Not willingly.

It's been a year. He's ignored it for a year, and he wishes to continue to do so. He most certainly does not want to move forward with the knowledge that Jo has seen it.

Fuck. He should leave. He also isn't willing to walk away while she's intruding. Perhaps it's worth noting, though, that he doesn't come in to drag her out. Doesn't move any further than where he stands, as though he can't step past the threshold of the door. The smell turns his stomach. Not the blood, but this. This specific combination of odours.

"Leave. Now."