[ His eyes land on Dean before he looks over at the furniture, the lights. The music is—different, somewhat, than what he finds in that club down the Horizon road, but at least he's now familiar with hearing music coming out of nowhere in the first place. ]
Quaint. [ Which might apply to the tavern or it might apply to Dean's comment.
A vague tilt of the bottle functions as a thank you when the drink comes his way. He's found Amos cleaning his shotgun before, and Dean seems to be doing much the same. There's passing interest as he takes in all the pieces; that's where his attention lingers as he slides onto one of the old stools. No judgement. He's sat sharpening a sword that doesn't need sharpening more than a few times.
The atmosphere's familiar, true enough. Geralt makes himself at home without much effort—in part due to that, in part because he tends to occupy most places in the same manner: as though he belongs, in the sole fact that he knows he doesn't. When everywhere's liable to tell you to fuck off, you learn to make room for yourself. ]
no subject
Quaint. [ Which might apply to the tavern or it might apply to Dean's comment.
A vague tilt of the bottle functions as a thank you when the drink comes his way. He's found Amos cleaning his shotgun before, and Dean seems to be doing much the same. There's passing interest as he takes in all the pieces; that's where his attention lingers as he slides onto one of the old stools. No judgement. He's sat sharpening a sword that doesn't need sharpening more than a few times.
The atmosphere's familiar, true enough. Geralt makes himself at home without much effort—in part due to that, in part because he tends to occupy most places in the same manner: as though he belongs, in the sole fact that he knows he doesn't. When everywhere's liable to tell you to fuck off, you learn to make room for yourself. ]
This is where your people gather? Or just you?