[This seems to satisfy him, quite oblivious to Geralt's own misgivings, but before he can say any more on the subject they're pulling into their stop, and on seeing the other man rise from his seat, Julian rises with him. He takes a stumbling step forward and - laughing at his own clumsiness - moves to grasp Geralt's offered arm as they move out with the rest of the evening's small crowd into the bitter cold of the night.]

Is your accommodation from here? I'm beginning to fear that if I don't indulge again soon, I'll begin to sober up. And we don't want that, now, do we.

[Though despite the jovial words, he doesn't look to be in danger of sobering up any time soon.]