[ Geralt steps to the side as Steve starts pulling forward paper crates, digging through them. His brows are furrowed, considering. He doesn't know what Steve is looking for, and he has a natural reluctance to do any digging himself, given that this is evidently personal.
Even so, when Steve digs out a parchment—paper—of a photograph, the quality a bit blurry, he can't help peering at it, at what lies behind the box. ]
This was your room?
[ Cramped, isn't it? There's no bed that he can see; it seems like a space for storage more than anything, but the cushioned nook says otherwise. Is that odd? He can't decide. For someone of his world, it would not be, but he's seen Sam's house, and he recognizes that commonfolk in other spheres can possess homes of a size that would normally be owned only by aristocrats and nobles on the Continent.
There's obviously something going on, something that's distracted Steve. He just isn't certain what it is. ]
no subject
Even so, when Steve digs out a parchment—paper—of a photograph, the quality a bit blurry, he can't help peering at it, at what lies behind the box. ]
This was your room?
[ Cramped, isn't it? There's no bed that he can see; it seems like a space for storage more than anything, but the cushioned nook says otherwise. Is that odd? He can't decide. For someone of his world, it would not be, but he's seen Sam's house, and he recognizes that commonfolk in other spheres can possess homes of a size that would normally be owned only by aristocrats and nobles on the Continent.
There's obviously something going on, something that's distracted Steve. He just isn't certain what it is. ]