Iɴ Hᴇʟʟ, I'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ → sᴇᴍɪ-ᴏᴘᴇɴ

[righteously]

Who: Dean & Various
When: August
Where: Cadens & the Horizon
What: Catch-all

Warnings: Winchester-brand violence, booze, and suicidal ideation I'm sure.

I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ғɪɢʜᴛ
Tᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ I'ᴍ ʀɪɢʜᴛ
I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ғᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴ

Comments

[righteously]

Are you kidding me? ( He scoffs. ) Those things are dangerous, you could poke your eye out.

( In any case, the exchange is enough to help him mark a few options off that short list. Enough that he feels fine irreverently dragging his chair up a little closer behind Geralt, so he can go about the slapdash sterilization process he's perfected involving a clean rag, strong booze, and eventually, a template transfer using wax paper. )

I talked to Ciri about it, too. ( Faintly distracted by the methodical process. ) She said she'd swing by and get one eventually. Just FYI.

( Not that either of them strike him as the parental consent type, and she's gotta be in her twenties by now, but still. Doesn't hurt to mention it. )

[gynvael]

Haven't lost that yet. [ His eye, he means. Dean asks no further, so Geralt offers no further. Not that it's a topic he minds; there just isn't much story to tell when it comes to the variety of things that sank their teeth or claws or blade into him. Jaskier has all the songs about them, anyhow.

He lets Dean go about it without interruption. He's never been marked before, he has no idea what the fuck that device in Dean's hand is—last he checked, this is typically done with a needle—but it doesn't warrant scrutiny. He trusts Dean knows what he's doing.

Ciri. Did she? The sound he makes is thoughtful. It's fair. She has been possessed once. He had not quite expected her to agree, though. ] She must like you.

[ If people think he's difficult to warm up, they haven't tried to get to know Ciri. ]

[righteously]

Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm a friggin' delight.

( He mumbles, dry as hell. Sarcastic, because he knows he's a pain in the ass with short term appeal. He can turn the charm on for strangers, but once you get to know him for more than an hour he becomes transparent crap on a stick.

But they're hunters, all three of them. This is what hunters do. They pick their people and they stick together. That makes sense to him. She doesn't even necessarily have to like him; liking somebody and being family aren't guaranteed to go hand-in-hand.

Template in place, he studies the positioning and deems it acceptable. Pulls out the gun and kicks it on — a quiet, rumbling vibration. He has absolutely not a single goddamn clue how it works or how it's powered, but it does, and that's good enough.

Here they go. Buckle up, Gerald.

And just so that it's on record, a few lines in he'll toss out: )

Thanks. For doing this.

( It helps. Means something. )

[gynvael]

[ The faint snort Geralt gives is answer plenty. Actually, that is probably why Ciri has taken to Dean. Because he's a delight. Those are the kinds of people she grew up surrounded by—not even when she came to be with the Witchers, but as far back as her bullheaded grandmother and her drunk of a grandfather. It's familiar. Like an old blanket.

Perhaps Geralt's the same. He's never found himself with people who are easy. But then, he isn't especially easy to be around, either.

The sensation is uncomfortable, but not more than that. He keeps drinking, mostly relaxed into it. The bottle only pauses at his lips when Dean thanks him.

He lets enough silence pass to acknowledge it in sincerity before he says, ] If it's crooked, I want my coin back.

[ Never mind that he's put down not a single copper for this. ]

[righteously]

Sorry, loser. Strict no money-back policy.

( He answers, a faux-cheerfulness tempered by concentration.

Like he said, a friggin delight.

Good news: it's not crooked — even despite the fact that they pass the bottle back and forth for the next hour or two in the process. )