"Yeah, but is he?" Geralt's bland tone somehow managed dubiousness. He'd known a lot of sorceresses and would never have described a one as sensible. Milva, Shani -- Calanthe, thy were sensible. Triss, Yenn? Not so much.

He swept his oil rag down the sword's fuller.

"That thing gets in your head, I punch it. Can't do shit if you're unconscious."