[It's in the air, the water, the sky. Yennefer has automatically assumed that he is some manner of mage. Clearly homespun. Perhaps a druid.]

Truly a shame indeed.

[For all the bristling between them, they are speaking the same language of agitation.]

Out of this inn? Yes. Always. I don't know about your portals. I can trust my portals. Best we not stay here much longer.

[Her objects begin to gather themselves. Candles, garments, the chest of potions and creams from the small table.]