The Witcher known as Geralt, was currently sitting inside of a bath. He sat in the clear water with his knees up and sticking out with his arms leaned along the lips of the tub itsslf. The room was dimmed, the only light sources to even illuminate this man being a few candles and the moonlight coming in through the top window that was far behind him. He was waiting patiently for one of the assistants, and though he was capable of doing this without assistance, he wanted to be able to relax and take time to not tend to himself.. And, he also did need help with a wound on his back that was a bit out of his reach.

Geralt inhaled a slow, deep breath, shifting a little in the tub to try and get comfortable beneath the warmth of the waters surface. He'd close his eyes, tilting his head back just a tad bit while feeling his silver hair fall down against his dampened back, only for the tips to reach and touch the surface of the water and cut through with their strands. The Witcher remained settled, and ensured not to lean too far back against the tub so he wouldn't further irritate his wounds. He grumbled something soft under his breath before his eyes shot back open at the sound of the door to his reserved bath room to be opened with a faint creak of the wood.