[ Sam's excitement both is and isn't something he'd thought to anticipate. It makes sense, really. People who haven't been to space tend to get hyped up about the concept. Hell, he'd been like that when he was a lot younger, though back then it was more about getting off of a dying rock than the wonders of the cosmos or some shit. But the eagerness, at scheduling a meeting, at hanging out again... Amos hadn't been all that sure what to think about a big party for no reason. Still isn't, really. But it can't be all bad if this is the guy hosting it; if he wants to see his space, spend time with him.
Yeah, this was a good call.
A small huff of amusement at the idea of a trek across hostile lands being a good story. ] Not much to tell there, but sure. Some other time. [ Since, you know. Them hanging out. Might be a regular thing, if all goes well. And the more Amos thinks about it, will think about it, the more invested he is in that.
It's all he can really do but nod at the idea of thinking about making his way out to the Free Cities, to somewhere not Solvunn, like it isn't the only thing he's going to be thinking about for. A while now. Already, in his quick mental tally, the pros seem to outweigh the cons, and that's without factoring in Sam or Geralt. A thoughtful hum; that'll probably factor in the more he considers it. It's not like moving would be any bigger a change than being in this world already is.
Not to mention the idea of being right by someone who can cook... Not that Amos can't feed himself, but he's never had the chance or want to take passion in what he eats. Another potential point in the Cities' favour. ] There're so many more options for food here. Wouldn't be opposed to expanding my palate at all.
[ He glances as Sam claps his shoulder, a move he's all too familiar with — one he'd normally make himself — and nods, lips quirked upwards in a smile. He'll stick around, at least. Probably along the outskirts of this, drinking a not-real beer, hanging under. Shit, a fucking tree, and ain't something? See if he can find a way to enjoy the atmosphere. Make proper plans with Sam for later. ]
Yeah. [ Yeah, they'll get things scheduled; yeah, Amos is pretty sure he's glad they've met, too. ] I'll be right here.
[ He figures Sam isn't the type to throw platitudes around. Actually means what he says. Which is good; they'll have that much in common, too. ]
no subject
Yeah, this was a good call.
A small huff of amusement at the idea of a trek across hostile lands being a good story. ] Not much to tell there, but sure. Some other time. [ Since, you know. Them hanging out. Might be a regular thing, if all goes well. And the more Amos thinks about it, will think about it, the more invested he is in that.
It's all he can really do but nod at the idea of thinking about making his way out to the Free Cities, to somewhere not Solvunn, like it isn't the only thing he's going to be thinking about for. A while now. Already, in his quick mental tally, the pros seem to outweigh the cons, and that's without factoring in Sam or Geralt. A thoughtful hum; that'll probably factor in the more he considers it. It's not like moving would be any bigger a change than being in this world already is.
Not to mention the idea of being right by someone who can cook... Not that Amos can't feed himself, but he's never had the chance or want to take passion in what he eats. Another potential point in the Cities' favour. ] There're so many more options for food here. Wouldn't be opposed to expanding my palate at all.
[ He glances as Sam claps his shoulder, a move he's all too familiar with — one he'd normally make himself — and nods, lips quirked upwards in a smile. He'll stick around, at least. Probably along the outskirts of this, drinking a not-real beer, hanging under. Shit, a fucking tree, and ain't something? See if he can find a way to enjoy the atmosphere. Make proper plans with Sam for later. ]
Yeah. [ Yeah, they'll get things scheduled; yeah, Amos is pretty sure he's glad they've met, too. ] I'll be right here.
[ He figures Sam isn't the type to throw platitudes around. Actually means what he says. Which is good; they'll have that much in common, too. ]