"Earlier," she deadpans. "And how long is earlier?" Her mind is still reeling, caught between a need to start collecting facts, and the instinctual disorientation all of this inspires.

The storm does howl outside, and her frown deepens as she approaches a window, a pointless confirmation. It would be stupid to go outside now.

When he asks, she chances a look back his way, back stacked straight. "Nilfgaardian soldiers. Whatever's left of either side." A beat, another moment's consideration - from his clothes to his accent. "Does that mean anything to you?"