Despite his understandable prickliness toward Berserker's crappy sense of humor, Waver accepts the affection, letting his head droop into Berserker's palm when he brushes his hair back. His breathing is steadying a bit, with some effort, evening out into something less labored and just tired.

Geralt gets another grateful glance through his sweaty bangs falling over his eyes. The rubbing does feel comforting. Soothing. The ear closest to Geralt swivels when he speaks, showing Waver is listening even though he closes his eyes.

"I think something in that poison disrupted how the Bond is supposed to feel too," he admits softly. Now that he can feel the effects clearing up, he can feel that familiar thread again, metaphorically within reach again when before it had felt far and fuzzy. Now that he can afford to focus on anything besides how shitty he felt, the guilt and worry over what Rider must be thinking is starting to settle in. Waver doesn't know if the Bond had felt strange to him, but it's probably going to start becoming evident soon that something is wrong if it wasn't before.

"I need to find... Rider..."