Self-image problems? Geralt would have fought that notion to the death. No-- he knew exactly what he was and had fully come to terms with being slightly less than something human. To say that that he got pissy about being reminded about such a thing was insulting. (The truth-- which was neither here nor there-- was that he absolutely did, but instead of calling an apple an apple he would simply walk around like he'd been sucking on a lemon while condemn the town, the beer, the height of his stirrups, the direction of the breeze... and so on and so forth, until the insults stopped lingering.)

The suddenly wagging finger in his face had the same ability to pull that sour look onto his face, his lips pinching together and his full eyebrows drawing dangerously low. "Idiot," he finally managed, seemingly to sink a little as he excepted the scolding. He breathed in slowly, and then out.

"Send someone to fetch it at least," he said. "I think you need sleep more than I do. You look like shit."