‘I came back,’ she said, looking at the Witcher. ‘No, you didn’t,’ he retorted. ‘You left.’ She looked at him. With cold, strange eyes. And soon after fixed her gaze on something very distant, located very far over the Witcher’s right shoulder. ‘So, you want to play it like that,’ she stated coolly. ‘And leave a memory like that. Well, it’s your will, your choice. Although you might have chosen a little less lofty style.
