[Again, there's the sound of Julian's lazy loose laughter as Geralt makes his dry joke, and it's obvious the other man's interest in his tale pleases him, makes him happy. Sprawled out in his seat, he looks the very picture of drunken relaxation.]

Hah! It would have been more believable, one large bat. I suppose it's the way I dress that does it. Perhaps they mistook me for a vampire.

[His grin is as loose and sprawling as the rest of him, and the other man's soft huff of laughter doesn't escape his attention, only makes him beam all the brighter.]

It wasn't the most sensible place to hide me, was it? I suppose, amidst all the panic, dear Mazelinka didn't quite think that part through. It was after she released me from my boozy prison that I got the eye patch, actually. She gave it to me to cover my eye, make sure I didn't spread panic in any port we happened to pass through.

[The part of the story he leaves out is his own fast ascending fear in the wake of finding himself in the Count's room, unable to remember what had happened, being swiftly whisked into the cells and marked with the murderer's brand. The guilt and terror and sick self-hatred that plagued him for the last three years as he tried to recall whether he'd done the dead or not. But those things aren't much fun to talk about, and don't fit the image of the debonair anti-hero he's trying to conjure up.

So he says nothing of that, instead leans over in his seat until he's conspirational-close to his new drinking companion.]

I like that you didn't ask whether or not I did it.