[Geralt examines Julian’s face carefully for any hint of disgust or discomfort – and he doesn’t find any. If there’s one thing he appreciates about this world, aside from the quality of the alcohol, it’s the lack of preconceptions about witcher’s or odd-looking people in general. Most of the people who arrive here quality as ‘odd-looking’, so Geralt’s appearance doesn’t elicit quite as much horror as he’s used to.]

I’m glad to have made your acquaintance, Doctor. Or Julian? If you prefer to drop titles.

[He gives a slight incline of his head rather than a bow. Sitting down as he is, he can’t bow anyway. Hopefully that isn’t some kind of social faux pas.]

I go by Geralt. Geralt of – [A pause.] A place no one here would be familiar with, and to which my association is tenuous, so perhaps it would be better to drop it.

Just Geralt, vagabond and witcher, and wholly retired in both regards since I see neither lands here to roam nor monsters to slay.