None of us ever were. [ Ciri reminds her gently, her smile waning into something a little sad, tinged with nostalgia that feels so out of place. As though she's reminding them both. ]

There's still a lot I'm--

Processing, perhaps, is the word. I assume we all are.

[ The question isn't one she expected. Ciri blinks, distracted from the subject momentarily. Ah. Yes. ]

That's right. His name is John.

[ Another, more heartfelt smile. ]

Geralt's taken a liking to him. He's a sweet man. You should meet him sometime.