The witcher walks slowly across the living area of her apartment, but keeps his distance from the sorceress. She’s being terse and she seems duly frustrated. Running a resistance cell can’t be an easy burden to bear, he tells himself. That’s why Geralt does his best to stay out of conflicts such as these. Triss is one of his dearest friends, though, and her heart seems to be in the right place. He may be emotionless, but he’s not about to just up and walk away from this now.
“Any ideas as to where the kid might’ve last been seen?”
“He’s a kid Geralt, they can be anywhere, part of the reason I paid him; no one pays attention to kids who run around the streets.” Triss put her hands on her hips and walked back and forth, she was worried for the kid but she’d be lying if a part of her wasn’t terrified of being given up for the promise of enough food and drink to fill his belly.
“I hope I’m just overreacting, he could have easily been picked up by some vendor looking for an apprentice; though with the way this city is I’d find it easier to imagine him taking a wrong turn in the sewers and possibly ending up crossing paths with a drowner.” Slowly the sorceress came to a stop and looked at the witcher, “Don’t suppose you’ve run into anything duing any of your contracts that might’ve given hint or sign of a kid in the sewer system?”
