[ His lips tilt a little further at Sam’s reaction. There’s an ease beginning to settle between them, one that lets Geralt relax more than he tends to around anyone else.
Though once in awhile, Sam makes a cryptic comment he’ll tuck away for later. Comments such as Disappear into the ice. Geralt considers pointing out that living an extended lifespan is not the same thing as vanishing into ice for several decades, if that’s what Sam’s trying to say—but then he has to wonder between Sam coming back to find his nephews aged several years and people going in ice, what the fuck’s actually been happening in Sam’s life sometimes.
The expression he gives Sam says he’s got questions, but that he’s choosing not to ask right this second. This is Sam’s happy little gathering; a chance to leave whatever shit they’ve got going on out there behind. At least for a night. ]
As long as we manage to. [ The answer comes almost too casually. Geralt tips back his beer. Realizes he could use another soon. ] No Witcher’s ever died in his bed.
[ Just how it is. Geralt has never, not once, entertained the idea of growing old and passing. It simply isn’t a thought that occurs to him, in the same way it does not occur to a fish to dream of leaving the water. ]
no subject
Though once in awhile, Sam makes a cryptic comment he’ll tuck away for later. Comments such as Disappear into the ice. Geralt considers pointing out that living an extended lifespan is not the same thing as vanishing into ice for several decades, if that’s what Sam’s trying to say—but then he has to wonder between Sam coming back to find his nephews aged several years and people going in ice, what the fuck’s actually been happening in Sam’s life sometimes.
The expression he gives Sam says he’s got questions, but that he’s choosing not to ask right this second. This is Sam’s happy little gathering; a chance to leave whatever shit they’ve got going on out there behind. At least for a night. ]
As long as we manage to. [ The answer comes almost too casually. Geralt tips back his beer. Realizes he could use another soon. ] No Witcher’s ever died in his bed.
[ Just how it is. Geralt has never, not once, entertained the idea of growing old and passing. It simply isn’t a thought that occurs to him, in the same way it does not occur to a fish to dream of leaving the water. ]