[ Oh, yeah. He's all too familiar with monsters. Not so much the literal kind — and he's perfectly happy to keep his interactions with those protomolecule fuckers as limited as possible, which, fortunately, doesn't seem like it's going to be a problem here — but the everyday ones? The ones you see on the street, the ones who come to where you live? Yeah. Sure. Amos knows them. Knows there are degrees to them. Knows that for as much as he himself is one, there's a far more evil kind out there; the kind he'll kill on sight and be done with it.

So Geralt's the same kind of monster he is, Amos takes it. Can't change what people think, but there are worse out there. Not the kind Amos is familiar with, he's pretty sure, but still. The kind that've got to be taken out. And Geralt does that.

Amos nods, plenty satisfied with that answer. ] Because there are people who can't fight them. And they don't deserve to die by them. Yeah. That makes sense.

[ Fucking magic probably isn't going to be a solve for Amos, either. But, shit. Maybe there is something comforting in knowing there's someone else here who kinda gets it. He's never going to improve, but if he can remind himself of Geralt's approach, maybe he can stop himself from doing anything stupid. Not like he's got a ton of options out here.

He glances back the way he originally came in, from out in the snow and bones and swords and shit; back at Geralt, perfectly at ease. ]

Swords are enough to kill your monsters? [ It's a real question, though it seems kinda quaint to him. But everything here is kinda quaint to him. Just one of those things he's not gonna be able to avoid. ]