“Look, I really didn’t want to have to do it this way, but-“. Shani is doing her very best to sound professional, but she cannot quite cull the edge from her voice. She might have nerves of steel, but even steel will become tarnished eventually.
She’s tried to do this the nice way, directly, more than once, to no avail. It’s as if she doesn’t even exist, and if there is one thing that riles Shani it is feeling as if her voice isn’t being heard.
She focuses on the medallion around the witcher’s neck, remembers Geralt of Rivia, wonders, as she always does, whether he remains alive and well.
Wherever you are, I hope you thrive.
Shani finishes drying her hands, her skin is dry, starting to crack over her knuckles. It has been a long day, a long week, a long month.
She musters up as much presence as she can, knowing fully well that she’ll never be as impressive as a sorceress, and not caring one whit about it.
“On behalf of not just myself but the entire staff of this hospital, I would much appreciate if you could have some words with your mage. We all need to be working together, here. We have routines for a reason. We appreciate... I appreciate your friend’s support, but – she needs to actually share her knowledge. Otherwise it’s just a waste of time. And a waste of lives.”
