There were worse ways to make a few coins, only Geralt knew already that he wouldn't take the little girl's money for it. His conscious wouldn't let him, but there was no way he'd let on to it. Witcher's didn't feel and no cute kid or her cat was going to change that.

Holding the feline creature by the scruff of the neck, Geralt turns and looks at the unfamiliar face before lowering the white ball of fluff into the girl's open arms.

"Not necessary," the Witcher grunts loudly over the barking dogs. He glares down at each of them, the barking all but stopping. There was something in his amber eyes the canine's found off-putting and before Geralt spoke again, each one silently dashed away.

He looks back at the new face. "Did I look like I needed help?"