Oh, gods. [His stomach turns. He does pull away from Geralt and turn around, cradling his stomach -- this time because he's very sure he's about to vomit, even though curving over makes his middle hurt even worse, the sharp throb of a new bruise.
He listens, though. Easier to do what he's told at the moment. He heals himself so he doesn't, in fact, collapse, because he knows just as well they need to go.]
I'm fine. [He stands again, the bruise at least a dull pain now. He hesitates, though.] I -- should we just leave them there? What did they want with you?
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He listens, though. Easier to do what he's told at the moment. He heals himself so he doesn't, in fact, collapse, because he knows just as well they need to go.]
I'm fine. [He stands again, the bruise at least a dull pain now. He hesitates, though.] I -- should we just leave them there? What did they want with you?