[It's unfortunate. He thinks it was a rather good joke.]

I'm sure I will, my dear.

[He feels her retract from her far more than he feels the loss of her hand. It's terrible, how they keep saying the wrong things to each other. He hadn't even meant -- he's not sure what. Why is she apologizing, anyway? This isn't her fault. None of this bullshit is.]

You've no need to apologize. And I know you have more interesting things to do than run errands for a whining bard. [He drinks from his cup and, fuck, it does work miracles. Every sip helps. It's certainly why most people indulge, isn't it?] Please, Ciri, I hope you don't think this is your fault, either. I don't even know why you would, what you have to be sorry for. You've been an absolute delight. I mean, if I set aside the bandit murder, it's -- I feel we've kept each other sane.