[ and truthfully, it might have down to that brief conversation, a nudge in sam's gut that tells him to follow up, to find out later. neither of them had really been in the mood to set everything off to the side right then and there, but given the time, the space, sam is back and is ready. to ask, to perhaps needle, to maybe relax a bit himself.
the last they'd really spoken had been in that bath at the summit. where geralt had told him that he wasn't going back, even if they'd found a way. that he was staying, here in abraxas, with what sam assumed to be ciri and jaskier. he wondered about yennefer, too, but could piece together what happened. could figure out from the after what she'd chosen. sam hurts for his friend, he really does, but there's no part of him that is surprised.
geralt sighs, and sam smiles in return - though the smile isn't as easily bright. isn't as seamlessly playful. geralt, with the shadow over his shoulders, and sam, with a hole in his chest. he knows he's going to end up telling geralt about steve's disappearance, knows that the conversation might veer in that direction, won't be caught off-guard by it when it does, but that is also why he brought the bottle.
geralt gets up and heads to the cupboard, and sam takes the moment to be nosy - to check the room, the space, the small signs of the group of them having moved in. it's still in process, even more so now with the knowledge that this will be it for them - that this is home - and it fills him with a sort of...warmth, but also longing. he files that away for some other time, his eyes falling to the small planks of wood that geralt had been working on and then shifting to geralt, when he returns with the mugs. ]
Art project? [ he asks, jokingly, as he takes the mugs when they're offered - stepping over to the small table and whatever is closest to sit on (chair, couch, bench. who knows.) he pours a glass and hands it back to the other man before getting one for himself, holding it up for a cheers. ]
no subject
the last they'd really spoken had been in that bath at the summit. where geralt had told him that he wasn't going back, even if they'd found a way. that he was staying, here in abraxas, with what sam assumed to be ciri and jaskier. he wondered about yennefer, too, but could piece together what happened. could figure out from the after what she'd chosen. sam hurts for his friend, he really does, but there's no part of him that is surprised.
geralt sighs, and sam smiles in return - though the smile isn't as easily bright. isn't as seamlessly playful. geralt, with the shadow over his shoulders, and sam, with a hole in his chest. he knows he's going to end up telling geralt about steve's disappearance, knows that the conversation might veer in that direction, won't be caught off-guard by it when it does, but that is also why he brought the bottle.
geralt gets up and heads to the cupboard, and sam takes the moment to be nosy - to check the room, the space, the small signs of the group of them having moved in. it's still in process, even more so now with the knowledge that this will be it for them - that this is home - and it fills him with a sort of...warmth, but also longing. he files that away for some other time, his eyes falling to the small planks of wood that geralt had been working on and then shifting to geralt, when he returns with the mugs. ]
Art project? [ he asks, jokingly, as he takes the mugs when they're offered - stepping over to the small table and whatever is closest to sit on (chair, couch, bench. who knows.) he pours a glass and hands it back to the other man before getting one for himself, holding it up for a cheers. ]
To the new place.