But Nina wanted his roughness, his age. Sweeney was old, much older than Geralt, but there is something familiar in his manner that was comforting just then. It made her feel like she could survive this, because Sweeney had survived saints-knew-what.

Nina wrapped herself in her shawl as they stepped outside, the chilly air doing a bit to clear her head. She focused on keeping herself warm, though she was careful these days with how she used her power on herself.

"Don't feel so down on yourself," she said as she looked up at him. She grasped Sweeney's hand and she shared her warmth, whether he needed it or not. She could see the look on his face. "If I have one more person telling me that it's going to be alright, and that I'll be fine, I'll scream. I just need someone that can keep up with me."