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“I annoy you, don’t I?”
The question had been preceded by the strong scent of herbs, but its suddenness still startled Geralt, who despite himself dropped the stick he’d been using to stoke the fire. He glanced up at the vampire who’d appeared out of nowhere across from him as he reached down to retrieve the stick. He wasn’t sure how to answer the question, which was more complicated than it seemed on the surface, so he only frowned.
The vampire smiled slightly in his usual custom, teeth well hidden behind pursed lips. “I see. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t have asked the question if I wasn’t prepared to learn the answer. In all honesty I was hoping you’d deny it.”
“You don’t annoy me,” Geralt said, looking to the fire. “... Sometimes you do things that annoy me. You have an infuriating tendency towards patronization.”
The vampire chuckled and came closer before easing himself down on the other end of the log in front of the fire. “You aren’t the first to accuse me of that, believe it or not.”
“I believe it.”
“I...apologize for that,” Regis said. “Though unfortunately I can’t promise I’ll stop or even patronize you any less. I’m prone to following well-worn habits.”
“Seems you are prone to overcoming them as well.”
“Hmm… Perhaps. I know what you’re referring to, obviously. I must confess, however, that feat was not accomplished by the force of my own will. Fifty years is a long time, Geralt. Half a century without the ability to choose made the choice for me.”
“You could have started again, after that. But you didn’t.”
“Purely a selfish act. I was...afraid of who I might become.”
Geralt hummed, stoking the fire more to have something to do than to help it burn efficiently.
“I can’t decide if I appreciate your not prying or if I’m offended at your lack of interest.”
Geralt finally set the stick down and looked at the vampire, meeting his gaze. He had been ready with a ‘You flatter yourself if you think you’re that interesting’ , but something in the vampire’s eyes gave him pause. There was a vulnerability there, as there had been when Regis had shared his story with the company. It was disarming and uncomfortable to see, on the face of a monster, an expression so human. In spite of everything, Geralt felt it was genuine.
Considering all of this, he took in a deep breath and sighed. “Feel how you like. My intention isn’t to offend you. It doesn’t feel right to rip into your personal life. I hardly know you.”
“You would get to know your friends more quickly if you made an effort.”
There was a decidedly none-too-small amount of chastising in the vampire’s tone that Geralt chose to ignore. “I am. Besides, the longer you’re with the company, the better I’ll know you. That’s only natural. Actions are what matter; you’re decently mannered and a healer. I don’t need to be lectured on your life history to learn who you are.”
The vampire only hummed in reply, and an unanticipated silence fell between them. The logs cracked and popped in the fire. Geralt wondered if Regis was oblivious to the unease he’d kicked up, or if he was perhaps relishing in it. For once, Geralt wished he would say something. He didn’t, and Geralt was the first to speak.
“Tell me this. How does someone who doesn’t drink end up making moonshine as a hobby?”
Regis raised his brow and looked to Geralt. He seemed surprised by the question. “Truthfully? I had intended to drink, at first. I thought it would be somewhat of a replacement for...ah...well. I thought it would distract me. But I was afraid. Every time I was about to drink, be it vodka or moonshine, I...was hit with this overwhelming certainty I would lose myself again. That all of my effort and resolution would be for nothing. It was ridiculous, of course. Baseless. But nevertheless, I was afraid.”
Geralt laughed and looked at his hands. “It’s a bit unusual isn’t it, that you insist on being so open with me?”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that I’m a witcher and you’re a vampire.”
“Forgetting that would be quite a task.”
“Yet you don’t seem particularly wary around me.”
“If you intended to kill me, you would have tried one of the myriad times you’d threatened to. That’s not to say you would have succeeded, which I’m sure you’ve already gathered. I do not believe that’s the reason that stayed your hand, however.”
“No? And what do you think the reason is, Emiel Regis whatever-it-was?”
“I think,” Regis said smiling in his usual way, “that you are less of a killer than you would like the world to believe. Despite all your witcher mutations, I believe you’ve a gentle heart. You are not a threat to me not because I’m dangerous, but rather because I’ve proven myself not to be dangerous. It’s in essence the very reason you’re not a danger to Cahir, despite his being from Vicovaro.”
Geralt rolled his eyes. “I don’t care that he's from Vicovaro or any other part of Nilfgaard. I care that it’s because of him that Ciri has nightmares.”
“And yet he remains in our company.”
“And I hardly like him any better than when he joined us.”
Regis frowned and inhaled sharply. “Geralt, don’t forget he has problems.”
“You keep saying that and I’m still not sure what you mean by it.”
“What I mean is, there are certain events in his life that led him to where he is now, who he is now. He’s young, even by your standards. He was incredibly young when he took Ciri from Cintra. He’s been through hell, he’s confused, and he knows what he’s participated in. But he’s trying to do the right thing now. Such a transformation, however, doesn’t happen overnight.”
“Can’t help but feeling like you’re patronizing me again,” Geralt grumbled.
“Tell me, does it bother you more that I patronize you than it does that I’m a vampire?”
“Yes,” he answered honestly with a frown.
The vampire laughed. “I cannot tell how much it truly pleases me to hear that.”
Geralt's lips twitched. “You’re pleased that I’m more put off by your personality than by the possibility you could kill me and my company simply for a high?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll please you even more to hear that, despite my best intentions, I’m starting to enjoy your company. What would folk say to that? A witcher and a vampire becoming friends.”
The vampire smiled, and this time Geralt saw the briefest flash of his fangs. His heart skipped a beat, but curiously Geralt didn’t feel the least bit afraid.
“The endtimes truly are nigh.”