[ When not even Paloma knows where her point was going or what it was in the first place, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that it pisses him off and accomplishes a whole lot of nothing. Time’s up. Really? warbles a pathetic voice in her head, wondering if he does respect her, trying to remember if she did anything to warrant being respected. Their history is short enough to flip through like a novel, everything there cast in doubt, in sharp relief. ]

Choosing to die. [ Geralt is a white blob at this point. The ground is a smear, but it’s a smear she’ll look at. ] That’s what your choice is. More than being left alone, left to die. Could you say what it is about bonding that’s so freaking disgusting to you that you’d rather fuck off and die?