It draws a surprised look from her- how easily he ANSWERS things. She doesn’t- never has, never will- it’s against her very nature.
She doesn’t give something unless it gets her something in return- even if that something is small, it must be something.
“Better than the forest floor,” she agrees. “Perhaps not better than up in a tree on nights where the stars are brightest. But that’s me.” Her head tips to the side, watching him as he looks at her fingers- but she doesn’t stop the movement.
It’s a beat- a rhythm. Not what the bard in the corner hums, but something in her own head.
“Admittedly, I don’t think I expected you to answer questions so easily,” Muninn says then, taking another sip of her own and then eyeing her food with- something like trepidation.
It’s often a fifty-fifty, with mortal cooking and if she’ll actually enjoy any of it, but she takes a bite regardless, uncaring or trying to be, and grey eyes lift once more.
“Witchers are often- mistrusted, from what I understand. Though admittedly I don’t really understand the why of it- and don’t think I want to. I’m rather enjoying drawing my own conclusions.” A pause, another slow blink.
“Though you’re the only one I’ve met, so I don’t much think that would let me make judgements on the whole. That’s a fool’s gambit.”
Geralt notices the surprised expression on her features, of course, but he doesn’t comment on it, for now. instead, he just continues to study her absently, taking a sip of his drink. she’s curious-- he hasn’t quite worked out what or who she is.
❝ i’d say so. ❞ he hums, setting his tankard down with a soft clunk before he takes a bite of his food. in truth, it’s been quite some time since Geralt has slept up in a tree, but he does remember some beautiful evenings spent up there.
❝ it’s not like you’re asking me anything personal. ❞ he points out with a half shrug, drawing his gaze back toward the woman sitting opposite him from where he’d briefly glances around the inn. ❝ some things don’t need to be kept secret. ❞
she looks a little unsure about the food, but he doesn’t make any judgements as to why that might be. after all, inns don’t ALWAYS have the best meals available, but they’re often a little better than what you’d have to make yourself out in the wild. he takes another bite of his food, before she starts talking about witchers again and he feels a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth.
❝ everyone has an opinion. it’s easier to fear something that you don’t understand. ❞ call it a monster, because it’s different. it’s the way humans have always been, and he doesn’t think that’ll change any time soon. ❝ of course. let’s just hope i don’t put you off too much, then. ❞
