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"Hmm, wonder what got you grinning like a kid in a candy store, vampire," Geralt asks, coming up to Regis from behind. "It's not just the fact that the sun is shining for once, is it? Wouldn't that be more something of concern for a creature of the night anyway?"
"Ah, but no, dear Witcher." Regis smiles through pursed lips. "It is a common misconception that vampires avoid direct sunlight, even hate it and are turned to ash as soon as the first beam of morning light strikes. Actually, I love to bask in the sunshine once in a while, and especially today."
"Why today?" Geralt sits down next to the higher-vampire-barber-surgeon on the fallen tree trunk. "Is there anything special about today?"
"Today I realised something astonishing, and this does indeed make this day special to me." Regis lets his gaze wander across the glade fondly. After a nice and satiating lunch of mushroom soup with dark bread they are all having a break in the sun. One of the refugee women is nursing her baby, the poor girl with the addled mind is resting against a tree trunk, her face peaceful and relaxed in the warmth of the early afternoon sunshine, Zoltan Chivay and his dwarves are playing cards with Dandelion, and Milva and Cahir seem to be deep in conversation about arrows and which heads and fletchings are best to use.
"So, what is this astonishing realisation then? Some kind of epiphany?"
"You could call it that, my Witcher friend, you could." Regis smiles mysteriously. "For, contrary to my solitary nature as a higher vampire and my almost five hundred years on this continent, I seem to lately have become quite - gregarious."
"Gregarious?" Geralt raises his brow in surprise.
"Indeed. So gregarious that I do not much like it that Zoltan and his company will leave us shortly. I believe I've become quite fond of his merry band. And of you lot. And there I thought I was happy all alone in Fen Carn. I was wrong."
"Fuck, I was wrong, too, about wanting to go on this mission alone. I'm glad you didn't listen to me and stayed anyway."
The two fall quiet for a moment, contemplating, a companionable silence.
"What about Cahir?" Regis eventually asks. "You seem a lot more inclined to accept a higher vampire into your company than a fellow human, which I find quite astonishing for a Witcher."
Geralt's gaze darkens. "I don't know yet. He might be trustworthy, and he might not be. All this could be a ruse de guerre to get to Ciri for his emperor. I guess we'll find out sooner or later. Hopefully not when it's too late."
"He's a good fighter, and Milva likes him. Humans in general are gregarious creatures. He might simply be tired of being alone. Perhaps you and Cahir have quite a bit in common in that respect?"
"Hmm. Funny. It's almost exactly what he said when I confronted him, that despite all the circumstances and appearances we had something in common. Did you listen in on our conversation, vampire?"
"Higher vampires have an excellent sense of hearing, as you might know, Witcher, and you weren't exactly whispering." Regis smiles apologetically.
"So you aren't only gregarious but also greatly curious," Geralt notes, more amused than annoyed or offended.
"Guilty as charged." Regis's smile broadens, showing his perfect white set of pointed fangs. "It is a character flaw, I admit. However, it comes in handy quite often. Moreover and very importantly, curiosity is the driving force of learning, and thus of evolution. Where would humankind be without curiosity? Still hopping from tree to tree. Not that higher vampires evolve physically like humans, we've always been as we are, and most adhere to our century's old customs and traditions. But who knows, with a tad more gregariousness and curiosity, even those customs and traditions might undergo some kind of cultural evolution. Perhaps to the point when all higher vampires become friends with Witchers. Wouldn't this be amazing?"
Geralt chuckles. "Amazing indeed. How long do you reckon this cultural evolution of higher vampires might take?"
"Ah, my very rough estimate? Five hundred to five thousand years, perhaps longer."
"I doubt there'll still be Witchers around then. But it's nice to have the one higher vampire here who seems to be far ahead of evolution, thanks to his marked gregariousness and keen curiosity."
"It is my great pleasure and utmost honour to be allowed to share this log with a Witcher and travel in his company." Regis inclines his head, both amused and pleased by Geralt's words.
"Travel, right." Geralt gazes around the glade once more. It looks like the dwarves have finished their game and are packing up. Zoltan Chivay, his green parrot by the name of Fieldmarshal Windbag on his shoulder, is glancing in their direction as if he wanted to have a private word with the Witcher before they part. It is time. Geralt rises from the tree trunk.
"See you later, my gregarious and curious friend," he says to Regis with a wink.
"I'll make sure we do." The higher-vampire-barber-surgeon grins.
Who would have thought he would, one day, come to highly enjoy conversing with a Witcher? Certainly not he.