He's mused by the way she pats and speaks to him when she's talking off-hand, like he's one of her prized horses. Not that he can judge, most witchers talk to their horses on the trail. Usually thinking out loud, puzzling through curses or mapping routes.
He politely looks away when she cleans herself up. Less out of squeamishness and more because such things feel oddly private, as if the moment of passionate heedlessness has passed.
"I told you we're sterile, right?" He says, after a moment. "You don't have to worry about getting pregnant or anything. No diseases either, we're immune to infections." He imagines that was part of the point: a dalliance with no consequences. She'd said something about fearing a man would make her a mother, a wife. Tie her down with feminine responsibilities. Eskel could not-- and would not (to the best of his abilities), even if he was a mortal man-- do such things.
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Date: 2020-09-11 06:11 pm (UTC)He politely looks away when she cleans herself up. Less out of squeamishness and more because such things feel oddly private, as if the moment of passionate heedlessness has passed.
"I told you we're sterile, right?" He says, after a moment. "You don't have to worry about getting pregnant or anything. No diseases either, we're immune to infections." He imagines that was part of the point: a dalliance with no consequences. She'd said something about fearing a man would make her a mother, a wife. Tie her down with feminine responsibilities. Eskel could not-- and would not (to the best of his abilities), even if he was a mortal man-- do such things.