[ Now that's an answer he understands. He watches the cat, thoughtful. Irrelevant. A curse of some kind, perhaps. Or magic gone wrong. ]

I suppose that's true for all of us.

[ Especially here, changed as they are whether any of them want it or not. Geralt has accepted his transformation—has even found reason to lean into it, here and there—but he won't say it's been a pleasure. ]

[ Never one to mind silence, Geralt sits in it with the cat. It's oddly peaceful; even knowing that the cat is not exactly a cat, he finds the company easier than someone in human form.

Only when the cat asks him a question does he look over. ]

Mm. Few months shy of a year. [ He's settled into it with less trouble than he'd thought. ] We knew each other from home.

[ Or, well. Friends, as other people would put it. ]

The only thing he does more than he talks is sing.

[ If Geralt sounds like he's said a similar phrase before, it's because he has, and the reply comes automatically even as he knows that isn't true: Jaskier has grown quieter as of late, ever since the kidnapping.

It's not something they've talked about. He's mostly just stayed close by, unspoken.

As the waves lap at the rocks below the docks, the sun begins to sink. Jaskier could use company, human or feline. It'd do him good, even as aloof as the cat seems to be. But the fact that he appears familiar with Jaskier beyond a singular meeting tells him enough. ]

If you come by some time, I don't doubt he'll have a fish for you.