[ What's he doing? What does it look as though he's doing?
Geralt gives the beam a hard shove. It shifts an inch, two. He glances upwards—makes sure he isn't disturbing anything that'll bring even more of the damn place caving down. The flames are spitting, the smoke so thick he can't so much see Dean as hear him. He ignores the heat scorching his hands—just pushes until the beam cracks through the wood atop and he forces it off. Bits of wood clinging to the roof begin to fall, crashing around them.
(It's funny. Fire's never bothered him. But hearing the way pillars and beams crumble into ash under the crackling flames digs up old wounds.)
He reaches through the gap in the flames. Grabs Dean by the arm. Can he walk? They'll find out—but Geralt won't hesitate to throw Dean over his shoulder if he must.
His stare is hard, leaves no room for argument. Let's go. ]
no subject
Geralt gives the beam a hard shove. It shifts an inch, two. He glances upwards—makes sure he isn't disturbing anything that'll bring even more of the damn place caving down. The flames are spitting, the smoke so thick he can't so much see Dean as hear him. He ignores the heat scorching his hands—just pushes until the beam cracks through the wood atop and he forces it off. Bits of wood clinging to the roof begin to fall, crashing around them.
(It's funny. Fire's never bothered him. But hearing the way pillars and beams crumble into ash under the crackling flames digs up old wounds.)
He reaches through the gap in the flames. Grabs Dean by the arm. Can he walk? They'll find out—but Geralt won't hesitate to throw Dean over his shoulder if he must.
His stare is hard, leaves no room for argument. Let's go. ]