Geralt lingered, a little too close. He wasn't attracted to men, not in particular, but there was something to be said in general for the pheromones of a full grown, sentient creature. He would be lying also, of course, if he claimed he'd never shared a prostitute with Dandelion.

He shook his head and, with knit brows, moved away again. He held a hand out for the booze. He liked it.

"Thought you might be ... not like me, but. Though you might be some kind of a hybrid. But you were born this way, maybe that's the difference. The Decoctions of the Grasses open our bodies up to change. We can administer mutagens throughout life."