[ sam explains what he can about bucky barnes to geralt like he's a target, and that feeling curls in his gut. a feeling that sam hated before, and hates even more now, at how it's still somehow familiar. tracking bucky barnes shouldn't feel like this, not anymore, and yet sam feels the tension rising in his throat.
he does trust geralt, that's the other part of this. he hasn't seen whatever his witcher abilities are in action, but if the man offers, sam can only imagine that they'll come into play. and that is mostly what sam sees, once they start off - a kind of focus, a kind of awareness, a kind of something that he can only follow, only keep his eyes out, only feel out of place. it tightens something in his chest, the more out of his depth he feels. the fact that bucky is here somewhere, has to be here somewhere, said he would meet him on the other side...
and then the night gets dark. the streets start to clear. sam senses geralt has come to something of an end of his search just as the other man turns to face him, and a sickening, heavy feeling sinks in his gut. bucky can't be that good at disappearing, but maybe he can? (or maybe that's just hope, desperately working its way up through that weight, trying, trying-)
the question has sam's eyes darting down the street they're on, as if someone could be listening in, even if he knows that isn't the case. really, sam's starting to feel what is probably that first question that geralt chooses not to ask taking shape somewhere in his throat.
he shakes his head. ] Not unless he was chased out. I told him to meet me here. [ and bucky wouldn't break that promise.
there's a pause, and then sam turns back to face geralt fully - like he's accepted his fate, like he already knows the answer. there's a tension in his jaw and a darkness in his stomach when he asks: ]
no subject
he does trust geralt, that's the other part of this. he hasn't seen whatever his witcher abilities are in action, but if the man offers, sam can only imagine that they'll come into play. and that is mostly what sam sees, once they start off - a kind of focus, a kind of awareness, a kind of something that he can only follow, only keep his eyes out, only feel out of place. it tightens something in his chest, the more out of his depth he feels. the fact that bucky is here somewhere, has to be here somewhere, said he would meet him on the other side...
and then the night gets dark. the streets start to clear. sam senses geralt has come to something of an end of his search just as the other man turns to face him, and a sickening, heavy feeling sinks in his gut. bucky can't be that good at disappearing, but maybe he can? (or maybe that's just hope, desperately working its way up through that weight, trying, trying-)
the question has sam's eyes darting down the street they're on, as if someone could be listening in, even if he knows that isn't the case. really, sam's starting to feel what is probably that first question that geralt chooses not to ask taking shape somewhere in his throat.
he shakes his head. ] Not unless he was chased out. I told him to meet me here. [ and bucky wouldn't break that promise.
there's a pause, and then sam turns back to face geralt fully - like he's accepted his fate, like he already knows the answer. there's a tension in his jaw and a darkness in his stomach when he asks: ]
You can't find him, can you?