"DON'T YOU THINK WE SHOULD GO BACK?"
It was Hemlock's agitated voice as he put back on his clothes. The girls had moved to some shadowed corner to dry theirs before putting them back on. Only the Vampire Prince and the redhead were left by the bank of the White Lake.
"...I mean Lord Cranmer could be worried. We should send word that—"
Marsil abruptly turned to face him and Hemlock fell silent, his hand freezing with one leg in his breeches. Moon eyes pinned his as the Prince replied.
"Old man Geralt doesn't give a fuck where we are. We are better off spending the night here..." Marsil paused a while before adding.
"...unless there's another reason why you want to go back?"
"N—No, why would there be?" Hemlock stuttered.
