[ His mouth snaps shut almost as soon as the words are out. Dean backs down, and Geralt's hackles go down, too. Just. He isn't trying to take this out on Dean. It's not Dean's fault. He wishes it was any time except right now, though.
He exhales. Shit. ] I can't get rid of it. What difference does it make why?
[ What will it solve? He doesn't want to talk about it. Not because he doesn't want Dean to know, but because the mere memory leaves a bitter, ugly taste in his mouth. He got over it. He moved on. So why does it feel so damn fresh all of a sudden? As though it happened yesterday?
That's what bothers him the most. Things surfacing he knows he put behind him long ago. (Except perhaps he didn't, truly.) ]
no subject
He exhales. Shit. ] I can't get rid of it. What difference does it make why?
[ What will it solve? He doesn't want to talk about it. Not because he doesn't want Dean to know, but because the mere memory leaves a bitter, ugly taste in his mouth. He got over it. He moved on. So why does it feel so damn fresh all of a sudden? As though it happened yesterday?
That's what bothers him the most. Things surfacing he knows he put behind him long ago. (Except perhaps he didn't, truly.) ]