[ sam catches the smile with just enough time to feel his own grow marginally, the feeling something mutual in the air. like, knowing that jaskier is in the clear, that ciri is tucked away in alina's bedroom, that it's now both him and geralt, awake and whole, that things may finally be able to settle. like everything, finally, is in the clear. he's not so optimistic to think nothing bad will come, again, but he can hold onto that feeling for the night itself. the city has calmed, the people are falling asleep, and as sam all but collapses onto the other side of the couch - falling into the cushions with a thud - he thinks maybe, just maybe, it's about time to let the exhaustion catch up to him.
geralt cocks his head at sam's curious look, lighting another candle across the room, and sam watches it happen. finds the trick to be useful, more than anything. he supposes he could ask - about what kind of magic that's supposed to be, how sam can learn to do it too, maybe, to keep him from having to get up every time, but for now sam just makes a sort of alright then sort of look and settles back.
at the joke, sam lets out a snort - like it's the kind of reaction he'd have given before, like he has some ongoing familiarity with the rumors made of witchers. ]
Whoever's starting these rumors need a better hobby. [ he says easily, feeling himself settle back into the corner of the couch. this is getting dangerous, he thinks, feeling like he's finally given up on holding the heaviness of his limbs at bay, crossing his arms over his chest more for the sake of having somewhere to put them than anything else. ] They're getting a little cliche.
[ sam yawns, feeling a bit like a kid trying to hold off falling asleep and somehow, despite it all, knowing it's going to hit him anyway. ]
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geralt cocks his head at sam's curious look, lighting another candle across the room, and sam watches it happen. finds the trick to be useful, more than anything. he supposes he could ask - about what kind of magic that's supposed to be, how sam can learn to do it too, maybe, to keep him from having to get up every time, but for now sam just makes a sort of alright then sort of look and settles back.
at the joke, sam lets out a snort - like it's the kind of reaction he'd have given before, like he has some ongoing familiarity with the rumors made of witchers. ]
Whoever's starting these rumors need a better hobby. [ he says easily, feeling himself settle back into the corner of the couch. this is getting dangerous, he thinks, feeling like he's finally given up on holding the heaviness of his limbs at bay, crossing his arms over his chest more for the sake of having somewhere to put them than anything else. ] They're getting a little cliche.
[ sam yawns, feeling a bit like a kid trying to hold off falling asleep and somehow, despite it all, knowing it's going to hit him anyway. ]