Oh. The elf thought he hunted sorcerers. That was new. He has been accused of a lot, but never hunting down mages.

Finally, he turns his head to fully look at the elf glued to the wall. Drinking, too. That's never good. The elf's words make him think of Triss, however, but he doesn't believe Triss is who is being discussed. "I'll keep that in mind." Note to self: don't mess with any sorceresses he comes across. At least he knows Fenris may perhaps mean well in terms of personal loyalty. Now he's reminded of Iorveth.

"I don't hunt sorceresses," he explains. "I was with one myself. I hunt monsters." But he leaves any interpretation of that up to Fenris to decipher. "I mistook you for a fellow witcher," he continues, surverying the peculiar markings on the elf's skin, "because of your hair."