Don't think about it too much. I had a flashback today drinking a pink lemonade at a Taco Bell, so I feel ya. ;pWhy the **** are pop tarts giving me flashbacks. I swear to every god worshipped by humans I've ****ing had it with every little thing bringing back loads of memories.
Geralt you little ****Geralt unfastened the purse on his belt and, holding it by the straps, weighed it in his palm.
'You won't bribe me,' the Cerberus said proudly.
'I don't intend to.'
The porter was too huge to have the reflexes which would let him dodge or shield himself from a quick blow given by an ordinary man. He didn't even have time to blink before the witcher's blow landed. The heavy purse struck him in the temple with a metallic crash. He collapsed against the door, grabbing the frame with both hands. Geralt tore him away from it with a kick in the knee, shoved him with his shoulder and fetched him another
blow with the purse. The doorman's eyes grew hazy and diverged in a comical squint, and his legs folded under him like two penknives. The witcher, seeing the strapping fellow moving, although almost unconscious, walloped him with force for the third time, right on the crown of his head.
'Money,' he muttered, 'opens all doors.'