It was hot. Not hot enough to scald, but hot enough that if you sat still, it would pull the ache right out of bones and muscles. Perfect. Geralt stepped in with one foot and then the other, before lowering himself, slowly and carefully, into the water. Nina had a deep tub, and he was grateful for it. Especially now that cold weather had started to set in.

He knew he never looked quite as old as he did when he was getting into a bath. He chuckled a little at his own slow slide. And then, settled, he rested his head against the smooth curve of the back of the tub and let out a very, very long sigh, eyes closed.

Darrow had some good spots. Baths on demand in moments, that was one.