[ The attic, to Geralt, is nothing special. Different than the kind he's used to from home, from Cadens, but he recognizes modern trappings easily, can even understand what the large box labelled Christmas means. Not until Steve says something does Geralt step away from the wall where he's making an attempt to either create a door or a window into it. (So far, ineffective.)
His gaze lands on the miniature bike, with two extra wheels. ] This place. You know it?
[ The answer is clear even before he asks. Of course Steve knows it. That is what the Horizon does. Shifts and changes through their memories. This...what is it? His home from childhood? A friend's home?
Well. At least it isn't Geralt's childhood memories. A small attic filled with sentimental trinkets doesn't seem so terrible a glimpse into another's mind, even if it does make him feel a bit like he's intruding. ]
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His gaze lands on the miniature bike, with two extra wheels. ] This place. You know it?
[ The answer is clear even before he asks. Of course Steve knows it. That is what the Horizon does. Shifts and changes through their memories. This...what is it? His home from childhood? A friend's home?
Well. At least it isn't Geralt's childhood memories. A small attic filled with sentimental trinkets doesn't seem so terrible a glimpse into another's mind, even if it does make him feel a bit like he's intruding. ]