[ Possibly for the best Geralt chooses not to mention Hector's obsession with un-aliving animals; that might raise an entirely new set of concerns. (No, he has not forgotten when he traded a rabbit meant for a meal, and Hector promptly reanimated it into a fucking pet.)
She straddles him on either side, and he moves to hold her. His fingers curl, shifting to slide a bit under the edge of her skirt. If he closes his eyes and ignores the warmth, the smell of balsam is almost reminiscent of home.
Or what was home. He supposes it's here now; it isn't that strange to think about as it might've once been. For all that he's left behind, he also has what he needs here. ]
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She straddles him on either side, and he moves to hold her. His fingers curl, shifting to slide a bit under the edge of her skirt. If he closes his eyes and ignores the warmth, the smell of balsam is almost reminiscent of home.
Or what was home. He supposes it's here now; it isn't that strange to think about as it might've once been. For all that he's left behind, he also has what he needs here. ]