Geralt said nothing as Aurel took his leave, simply watching the young man walk away. He followed him with his gaze until he was halfway across the grounds, then turned and made his way beyond the curtain and into the shower. [i][color=crimson]Cleanliness is next to Godliness after all...[/color][/i]he told himself, the parasitic creature within him hissing in disapproval of the saying.

He spent a little extra time under the water, making sure every layer of grime was washed from his skin before he exited. By the time he was done, almost all of the water they had collected was gone, and though Geralt noticed this, he was not going to be the one to say anything.

He hadn't brought a change of clothes with him, so he wrapped the towel about his waist and exited the curtained area, leaving it open for whoever wanted to use the last of their dwindling supply. Though he'd left trousers behind, he hadn't forgotten to bring bathing shoes to keep the grime off of his feet. He needed to stay clean for as long as possible before they reached Mesquite.

He was pleased to see that more troupe members had populated the grounds, just in time for him to walk back to his trailer. He took his time crossing, making sure to look at each person in turn. He lingered especially long on Ivory, smiling as he watched her face fall and her eyes roll. With this vampiress, he was happy for any reaction, even a negative one. When he reached Lucien and Aurel, he paused before passing, making sure the Frenchman got a good, long look. Geralt's body had not changed in more than fifty years, through no effort of his own, it was the same as the day he had turned twenty-five and would remain so until his muscle and skin rotted into nothingness and left only bones behind. Despite this, he was proud of the way he looked, and had received many compliments from partners all throughout his life. If this did not get the blood pumping in Lucien's...veins, then he doubted anything else would.