[ sam's brow arches dramatically as he looks at geralt. ]
'That' face? And what is that face? No- show me, I want to see it.
[ because he does know the face, and he does clock geralt agreeing without a fight, and all of this is something. something important, something impactful. but that doesn't mean sam won't give geralt crap for it. and it's obviously crap, considering how sam's face breaks into a smile and he turns back to the rest of the room - taking another drink, enjoying the quiet house for the moment.
geralt hums, and sam waits for his answer. there's a kind of inherent support, within it - that if geralt doesn't want ciri to go, sam will help him find a way around it. or, if he doesn't want her to go for the wrong reasons, sam will get him through why. he can't really imagine what it must be like, coming from all the different places - a child, that geralt didn't know he had. that child, no longer a child. a woman. a grown woman. sam is still wrapping his head around the time shit with peter, but this...
but at his answer, sam feels any of whatever tension he might have been feeling fall away. ah, so that's how it is. sam's smile lingers a little as he nods, recognizing (or believing he is recognizing - his time with geralt has made him feel like he's starting to pick up on the signs, on what geralt means when he might not say much at all, but he knows a couple of months isn't anywhere near enough to know...) the fondness. ]
You worried she's going to show you up, old man? [ another jest, but sam is happy to keep the lighter air going. ] I mean, you're a little out of practice. And if you trained her, she's going to have the skill and her youth on her side. [ there's a beat here, where sam seems to recognize that what he's said may be incorrect, and he kind of pauses mid-movement. ]
no subject
'That' face? And what is that face? No- show me, I want to see it.
[ because he does know the face, and he does clock geralt agreeing without a fight, and all of this is something. something important, something impactful. but that doesn't mean sam won't give geralt crap for it. and it's obviously crap, considering how sam's face breaks into a smile and he turns back to the rest of the room - taking another drink, enjoying the quiet house for the moment.
geralt hums, and sam waits for his answer. there's a kind of inherent support, within it - that if geralt doesn't want ciri to go, sam will help him find a way around it. or, if he doesn't want her to go for the wrong reasons, sam will get him through why. he can't really imagine what it must be like, coming from all the different places - a child, that geralt didn't know he had. that child, no longer a child. a woman. a grown woman. sam is still wrapping his head around the time shit with peter, but this...
but at his answer, sam feels any of whatever tension he might have been feeling fall away. ah, so that's how it is. sam's smile lingers a little as he nods, recognizing (or believing he is recognizing - his time with geralt has made him feel like he's starting to pick up on the signs, on what geralt means when he might not say much at all, but he knows a couple of months isn't anywhere near enough to know...) the fondness. ]
You worried she's going to show you up, old man? [ another jest, but sam is happy to keep the lighter air going. ] I mean, you're a little out of practice. And if you trained her, she's going to have the skill and her youth on her side. [ there's a beat here, where sam seems to recognize that what he's said may be incorrect, and he kind of pauses mid-movement. ]
Please don't tell me she's secretly 100. Please.