[ Souvenir takes him a second to interpret. As in, a trophy? ] Sold them.
[ He has exactly one horse and one pack, and none of it has room for bits and pieces from some sopping wet creature in the swamp. Though plenty collect. Pretty sure he's sold a head once to a man who wanted it mounted, has probably told people since that he killed it himself instead of forking over a few orens for the prize from a Witcher. Not that he gives a damn.
An edge slides into his voice. His gaze flicks upward towards her. ]
No. [ There's the woman who gave birth to him, and the man who raised him. Neither of which, he suspects, are what she means when she says parents. But he doesn't want to get into it, so he diverts, a little. ] I have an old bastard of a teacher.
[ There's fondness there, though, when he says it. ]
no subject
[ He has exactly one horse and one pack, and none of it has room for bits and pieces from some sopping wet creature in the swamp. Though plenty collect. Pretty sure he's sold a head once to a man who wanted it mounted, has probably told people since that he killed it himself instead of forking over a few orens for the prize from a Witcher. Not that he gives a damn.
An edge slides into his voice. His gaze flicks upward towards her. ]
No. [ There's the woman who gave birth to him, and the man who raised him. Neither of which, he suspects, are what she means when she says parents. But he doesn't want to get into it, so he diverts, a little. ] I have an old bastard of a teacher.
[ There's fondness there, though, when he says it. ]