[It would be quite easy to find Julie's clapping condescending, but he's long learned already she has no problem speaking her mind if that's what she wishes to imply. Instead he smiles back at her, scooting closer as she deciphers the symbology of it all.

He's not sure how well he buys into this face implies sneakiness, but. You know, what does it matter? It's fun. He loves the idea of it. Of course he has his preference for words, but words cannot always say everything.

As much as he'd like.]

This is much more complex than I was thinking. And would it not depend on the receiver interpreting it the same way? I suppose you'd know, sending it to a specific person.

[What would Geralt think if he send him some cocktail glasses and a gust of wind? He'd, perhaps, not speak to him again.]

Oh. Fuck me. [He looks through them, imitating the swipe of her finger.] This is exceedingly complex. Wait, wait. [He moves over to a peach, touching it.] I know this one well. My lady, how I pine to see you leave / But is it from a glut of you / or a wish for the sight of your rump / Round as a peach?