Geralt: You talk.
Torque: Of course I talk!
Geralt: What happened with you? Your mother f*ck a goat?
Torque: I am Torque the Sylvan, a rare and intelligent creature!
Geralt: You're a d*ck. With balls.
Torque: Balls I got from humans, who left our food filled with iron meant to poison me! (pulls out a strand of hair from Geralt's head) Did your mother f*ck a snowman?
Geralt: You are intelligent, I'll give you that.
Geralt: Go away.
Jaskier: I won't be but silent back-up. Look, I heard your note, and, yes, you're right, maybe real adventures would make better stories. And you, sir, smell chock-full of them. Amongst other things. I mean, what is that? Is that onion? It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak.
Geralt: It's onion.