Geralt didn't have a chance to far before there was a second, firmer headbutt from the big Qunari. His skull was built to hold two massive horns; his neck was strong enough to bear and balance the weight. He tried to hold back, a little, but it was hard after the drinks he'd had and tempting to not bother at all.

But he didn't want to nurse Geralt through the ensuing concussion if he hit too hard.

He huffed a bit and sat back, listening while Geralt spoke. "You are not the first person to try to get me to meditate."

Maybe Krem would let him sleep in his barn until this whole thing just... reached some conclusion. But that wasn't fair to Dorian, was it.