Cassandra's plan had worked well enough, redirecting both groups of wooers that were trying so hard to be the ones to leave with them that evening. Geralt's eyes follow her's to the male standing at the bar and who was now pursuing the toothless woman. He can't help but think that they should have found each other first, but perhaps this was fate's doing.

His expression softens in understanding, though there's an uncertainty of where to go from there. Talking isn't his strong suit, yet, Geralt doesn't want to be rude and get up and go like he had been planning to do almost as soon as he arrived. This woman, however, seems to have him momentarily forgetting those plans.

"Seems it's working," he replies, picking up the pitcher of ale to pour another half glass and then taking a large swallow before continuing. "Are you among the recently arrived, too?"

Once again, small talk was not one of his strengths.