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    Summary

    Lambert sat back in his chair and picked up his drink. He sipped at it unconcernedly, seemingly oblivious to the calculating stare he was being levelled with. Geralt looked away from him, gaze back on the fire. When the air of wariness started to seep out of his countenance, Lambert broke in again:

    "Say, Geralt," he remarked, in a chipper tone. "How's your bard?"

    Geralt tensed up in a millisecond.

    "My bard," he repeated, turning back to Lambert and levelling him with a stare. It was the kind of look which would send any sane person running away screaming. Lambert just smiled.

    After stumbling into Jaskier on their way to Kaer Morhen, Lambert and Eskel confront Geralt.

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