"Melitele's tits...lunch? What time is it?" Eskel asks, lifting his head from where it's buried in Geralt's pale curls. "Ha, old man's gonna make you run The Killer in the cold." He says, playfully punching his brother in the shoulder. He's suddenly grateful to be exempt from the old man's punishments (for the moment).

He struggles to sit up, eyeing the bard with a wry, amused expression.

"Mm, I could do worse for a nurse than you, songbird." He jokes, even if he's still a little bewildered by the care the other man has for him.