[ was sam like this before? the answer is complicated, more so than even what geralt might be thinking. in a way, yes; sam had always been someone to have projects in motion, his hands in many pots, his focus in many directions. but there was a time, before all this, before abraxas and even before falcon, when sam was better at finishing the things he started. sam had time to complete the projects he had. now?

it wasn't all that long of a time, he thinks. though it's tough to tell how long exactly. time has started to get soft, grey around the edges. there are times it bothers sam more often, and others that he lets the reality of living centuries, living lifetimes, must have on a human body.

for now - projects scatter the floor and counter spaces - organized chaos, but not so cluttered that a life can't be spent here. geralt gets comfortable and sam wanders over to settle in a seat to his right. is patience in the silent moments as geralt works his way through what it is he feels, what it is he's thinking.

I hurt someone is what he ends up saying, and sam's brows lift. not in shock, not in any kind of blame, but in acknowledgment that he is listening and that he understands the weight of that statement. I thought- and sam lets geralt work his way through what he wants to say, how he wants to say it. sam takes another long sip from his bottle, notices the way geralt struggles with the process, is reminded of the earliest of their years of friendship. ]

Maybe. [ sam shifts, crossing one arm over his chest while the other holds the bottle of beer. he considers the glass, the neck, shrugs once. ] It could have been the mountains, or anything, and it triggered something you didn't know you needed to be careful of. [ geralt can't be held responsible for that, and chances are he knows just that, but his coming here isn't about his responsibilities...

at least, sam doesn't think so. ]

They're okay? [ he knows the answer, but maybe sam thinks geralt needs to confirm it aloud for himself, too. ]