Geralt crossed the room and took a seat in the same chair that he had last night without a word. After sitting, he watched Lucien take a look around, eyes lingering on the wine stain from last night. Though he could have cut the tension in the room with a knife, The Magician sensed that Lucien's crust had softened at least somewhat. He was still...charge with negative energy, but the anger was no longer apparent on his features. He looked...stern, but not furious. This was progress in the right direction, at least, and better yet, Geralt hadn't even needed to do anything to get a head start. He hoped the weight lifting meant good things for the next several minutes.

At the Nephilim's question, Geralt chuckled and shook his head. [color=crimson]"I feel like a baby dragon is about to hatch from my skull,"[/color] he said plainly, lifting a glass on the table to his lips. He paused before drinking and held it in Lucien's direction for just a moment, [color=crimson]"Don't worry, just water,"[/color] he said, adding a wink, before he took a sip and set the glass back down. 

[color=crimson]"But I know you didn't come here to talk about my well-being. Please, have a seat,"[/color] he said, gesturing to the chair across from his. Hurt though he was, The Magician was no longer inebriated, and with a sharp mind he was able to keep his tone and expression entirely enigmatic, as was his expertise.