[ As one, Lambert and Celandine jerk away from Childermass, breaking the contact they'd only begin to lean into. The witcher winces again, at the pain that leaves lancing down his side, and frowns. ]
What? [ He snaps, whatever hesitant mood he'd borne before now lost at this new thorny topic introduced to the conversation. ] How do you figure that?
no subject
What? [ He snaps, whatever hesitant mood he'd borne before now lost at this new thorny topic introduced to the conversation. ] How do you figure that?