"Don't worry," Geralt said, as he allowed himself to be cajoled toward the bedroom. His voice held a hint of humor, and a bit of exasperation. Nina was a bit of a force.

"Completely immune to pathogens. They can't survive in a witcher's body. Not going to get the sniffles from a night at the beach."

He disappeared into the bedroom, already unbuckling and unbuttoning, pulling ties loose so that he could get the leather jerkin and mail off and toss it to into the corner to dry.