( He confirms, but evidently doesn't see fit to elaborate. It's his fucking business, and he's not so proud of having been bested by a woman that he'll go telling his story to a stranger — lost wolf or no. This tentative peace and tolerance can't even remotely be stretched to something as friendly as happy acquaintance. He's just content enough to rest that busted leg in relative proximity for a few moments until he feels up to taking his leave.
Until, of course, Geralt goes and whips out some fucking birdlike grippers, and Sandor pulls an outright bewildered, faintly disgusted face. )
no subject
( He confirms, but evidently doesn't see fit to elaborate. It's his fucking business, and he's not so proud of having been bested by a woman that he'll go telling his story to a stranger — lost wolf or no. This tentative peace and tolerance can't even remotely be stretched to something as friendly as happy acquaintance. He's just content enough to rest that busted leg in relative proximity for a few moments until he feels up to taking his leave.
Until, of course, Geralt goes and whips out some fucking birdlike grippers, and Sandor pulls an outright bewildered, faintly disgusted face. )
The fuck's wrong with your hand?