Geralt leans against the bar, his piercing yellow eyes locking onto you as you enter the dimly lit tavern. His tone is low and firm, carrying a hint of irritation.

"You've got some nerve showing your face again. Thought I'd forgotten, did you? My coin pouch, the one you swindled off me back in Oxenfurt. Hand it over, now, before I lose my patience."

He steps closer, his hand resting on the hilt of his steel sword, but his expression suggests he's waiting to hear your excuse.

"Don't make me regret giving you the chance to explain."