[ sam feels good, and that is the prevailing feeling - he is in his home, he has his (and other) people around him, there's no immediate danger looming outside his door. it's not that he's completely ignorant of the truth of their situation, but rather sam finds that there have been more moments, during this night, that he doesn't feel he has to actively worry. it also means he is not, necessarily, actively noticing every detail, every moment. he will have brief seconds of clarity, of noticing his own relaxed nature, of easy seconds passed between people who used to be strangers. but it also means this just feels familiar - that geralt isn't completely at odds with the technology of the kitchen, that out of the corner of his eye sam sees geralt settle onto a stool and sam finds himself thinking that's his spot.
he does, however, get caught up on the way that geralt just pops open the bottle of beer, and it stops sam on his search for an opener. his eyes go from the bottle, to geralt, then back to the second bottle before holding it out for the witcher to take and do the same to.
sam whistles, impressed, at the answer. he can tell there is a weight to the man geralt is speaking about, but he decides specifically not to pry. chooses, instead, to let geralt feel comfortable with offering what he wants to offer. the wistfulness and distance say all that sam really needs to know, right now, and he nods. ]
He sounds a hell of a guy. [ and sam's eyes linger on geralt, just for a moment longer. like he's giving him the space to say more, if he wants to, but also is picking up on anything left in those words. like the feeling geralt is more used to pushing off the question than answering as he had. ] Almost two hundred. Damn. [ and then, with a raised brow to geralt. ] Sounds like you're the young one, here.
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he does, however, get caught up on the way that geralt just pops open the bottle of beer, and it stops sam on his search for an opener. his eyes go from the bottle, to geralt, then back to the second bottle before holding it out for the witcher to take and do the same to.
sam whistles, impressed, at the answer. he can tell there is a weight to the man geralt is speaking about, but he decides specifically not to pry. chooses, instead, to let geralt feel comfortable with offering what he wants to offer. the wistfulness and distance say all that sam really needs to know, right now, and he nods. ]
He sounds a hell of a guy. [ and sam's eyes linger on geralt, just for a moment longer. like he's giving him the space to say more, if he wants to, but also is picking up on anything left in those words. like the feeling geralt is more used to pushing off the question than answering as he had. ] Almost two hundred. Damn. [ and then, with a raised brow to geralt. ] Sounds like you're the young one, here.