"It's shit all right," Mad Sweeney agrees, shifting in the booth and lifting his arm so he can drape it over Nina's shoulders. There are no words he can say that will fix this, nothing he can do that will bring the man back or make Nina feel less like she's lost everything. If she wants his bloody arm around her, if somehow that's going to help her even just a little bit, that's a thing he can do.

It isn't the same, he hadn't loved Hild the way Nina loves Geralt. Maybe he could've, he thinks it might have been possible, but it wasn't the same. It's the closest he has for comparison, though, in this damn place. He's lost people before, plenty of them, but this place fucking takes like nothing he's ever experienced before.

"You'll be alright," he echoes. "Don't mean you're not allowed to feel like shit for now."