Yeah, I'll be good. Have to be, if I don't make it home for the winter, you're going to have some very nosy, very irritable witchers on your doorstep and I'd hate for that to happen. [He piles some of the cured meats on the bread to multitask on the efficient way he's scarfing down his dinner.] And yet there you were, like a beacon in the blood and the smoke and the mud.