"I mean, not really." Bull reconsiders, tilting his head back and forth. "Maybe more and less than you're thinking. I learned what I needed to. But then, the people who did need to know couldn't figure me out either, so maybe there's not much point in asking you.

"Say I do tell you, you planning on writing it down? I'm going to be real, I kind of like the idea of getting my own page in some witcher book you guys are going to be looking at for the next fifty or hundred years, or whatever. And I guess if you take me out, you lose that chance I'm going to get you that extra payment..."

It's not a lot of security, but he also doesn't want to flat out refuse to tell the witcher at all, risk losing some of whatever goodwill he's got by sitting and talking like this.

He's still thinking about it.

"You meet a lot of succubi, knowing how they smell like that? How's that usually go?" If this guy's as relaxed about monsters as he says he is, those other meetings probably went okay for the succubus, usually. Probably he doesn't have an issue with the whole feeing on people's energy, going into their dreams thing. It'd still be nice to hear it from the witcher's own mouth.