[ Oh. He forces himself to relax a little. Geralt rubs the corner of his eye. Mm. Maybe one of them can go down to the apothecary tomorrow. He's given little thought to what he's meant to do next. Up until now, he's only looked towards surviving through the night. Now he's here (home), with people he owes answers to. He wishes he could say he didn't, that he could pretend none of them need to know.
He's still contemplating, forgetting for a moment that he's not alone. Then Sam's I'm sorry cuts through the air and he snaps his attention up. His brows knit together.
It says something he's no idea how to react to an apology, to what he senses is guilt from Sam. Acknowledging it feels too much like admitting it'd bothered him, like he'd expected anything else, and he hadn't. Nor can he say he begrudges him. Not really. (But he had wanted different. Hoped for different, perhaps.) He doesn't wish to shrug it off, either, what Sam's saying. He recognizes the sincerity. How rare it is for him it to even be directed towards him. It'd be a lie to claim the gesture doesn't mean something, even if he's unwilling to entirely put into words what that is. ]
You healed well. [ A silent acceptance of Sam's apology. There isn't a lot to discuss. Geralt's willing to put it aside, if Sam is. The heart of the matter is, he likes Sam's company—would prefer to have it again without these unwelcome walls between them. And reliable allies are in short supply, no matter what sphere he's on.
He pauses. ] I didn't want to go to Ciri. How I was last night.
[ It's an explanation, of sorts, for why he ended up at Sam's doorstep despite it all. ]
no subject
He's still contemplating, forgetting for a moment that he's not alone. Then Sam's I'm sorry cuts through the air and he snaps his attention up. His brows knit together.
It says something he's no idea how to react to an apology, to what he senses is guilt from Sam. Acknowledging it feels too much like admitting it'd bothered him, like he'd expected anything else, and he hadn't. Nor can he say he begrudges him. Not really. (But he had wanted different. Hoped for different, perhaps.) He doesn't wish to shrug it off, either, what Sam's saying. He recognizes the sincerity. How rare it is for him it to even be directed towards him. It'd be a lie to claim the gesture doesn't mean something, even if he's unwilling to entirely put into words what that is. ]
You healed well. [ A silent acceptance of Sam's apology. There isn't a lot to discuss. Geralt's willing to put it aside, if Sam is. The heart of the matter is, he likes Sam's company—would prefer to have it again without these unwelcome walls between them. And reliable allies are in short supply, no matter what sphere he's on.
He pauses. ] I didn't want to go to Ciri. How I was last night.
[ It's an explanation, of sorts, for why he ended up at Sam's doorstep despite it all. ]