John sighs softly, feeling his body relax inch by inch as Geralt wraps his arms around him. He reaches up to close his arms around the other man's waist in return, pressing his face into Geralt's shoulder for a long moment and just breathing in the scent of him, soaking in the quiet strength of his presence. It isn't like John to be in such a state, it's true. It is just that the past few days -- months, really -- have been particularly trying.

After a long moment, John nods against the fabric of Geralt's shirt. He is rather ready to 'get the fuck out of here'. Certainly before another one of whatever the hell that thing was shows up again. He's not sure that he's ready to face whatever is waiting for him in his future beyond, but he will cross that bridge when he gets there.

"Dare I ask how it was that you found me out here?" he wonders aloud, pulling back to study the other man's face. Not that he isn't grateful, of course. But talk about a needle in a haystack.