[ Steve grips Geralt's hand firmly, gives it a proper shake but doesn't linger too long. He has some awareness that the last thing Geralt probably wants to deal with right now is a string of people worried about Sam, but if nothing else, Steve will be able to field the questions of anyone else who catches wind of what's going on. It's the least he can do. ]

I figured. [ You didn't opt to go on a week-long trip into the desert with a stranger. Steve still doesn't know what they'd been after out there. ] Whatever your trip was about, I hope you found you were looking for.

[ He says it sincerely. What happened to Sam seems to be a result of bad timing rather than anything the desert did to them. If they'd just gotten to town a little bit sooner, Geralt's wounds could have been tended in a more controlled environment. Still, there's little point in dwelling on what-ifs.

Steve's hand drops back to his side and he lets out a breath through his nose, gaze straying to the closed door again. ] I'll, uhh, probably wait here until she comes out. You must be dead on your feet — I won't keep you any longer.