Bennett winces a little when he hears Geralt shouting above him, but he's a little confused as to why the man isn't speaking French. Most of the people in that hospital had been Francophones, right? 'Cause. Montreal. Lots of French. He remembers getting knocked out when that big dog-thing tackled him to the ground, and it bit him, right...?

Wait. Ben's eyelids flutter as he struggles to sit up at all, the din of chipmunks and passengers and sliding tentacles coming back around. He can't quite get a handle on what's going on around him, but he's at least aware of where he is, for the most part. It sure as hell isn't Canada.

"Montreal was ten years ago," he says to himself in a quiet voice, lost in the chaos.