Jo grits her teeth and doesn't back away when he steps menacingly close.
Like all hunters, there are things Jo does not want to look at and spends a good deal of effort and time on both not looking at and not connecting the lines between, and Ciri and Geralt are one of them. Because equating Ciri—strong, beautiful, a little too serious, easily flusterable, incredibly skilled— with Geralt? With the black eyes that had been her last sight before it and that room all around them?
If Jo did, she'd had choices she had to make, and she likes Ciri, and she doesn't want to think about it or do what she should because of it.
"I did not just will myself—" Those words get emphasis. "—into that, I don't even know what to call it because it's not a memory, it's not something I'd ever have to see until it happened, and it's not something I would have gone looking for. I had enough details from Dean about what happened; I didn't want to live it now."
Those last words come out faster and more honest than she even means for them to. Need. Need to see it, live it, would have been better. Want is too bare, too much like fear and avoidance. Too close to the core, of being close enough to her death, knowing enough of it, and not needing more than Dean's words. And now too intimately all he'd left out now that night after Lucifer's appearance. All he couldn't have known inside of it. Or about the end of the end.
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Like all hunters, there are things Jo does not want to look at and spends a good deal of effort and time on both not looking at and not connecting the lines between, and Ciri and Geralt are one of them. Because equating Ciri—strong, beautiful, a little too serious, easily flusterable, incredibly skilled— with Geralt? With the black eyes that had been her last sight before it and that room all around them?
If Jo did, she'd had choices she had to make, and she likes Ciri,
and she doesn't want to think about it or do what she should because of it.
"I did not just will myself—" Those words get emphasis. "—into that, I don't even know what to call it because it's not a memory, it's not something I'd ever have to see until it happened, and it's not something I would have gone looking for. I had enough details from Dean about what happened; I didn't want to live it now."
Those last words come out faster and more honest than she even means for them to. Need. Need to see it, live it, would have been better. Want is too bare, too much like fear and avoidance. Too close to the core, of being close enough to her death, knowing enough of it, and not needing more than Dean's words. And now too intimately all he'd left out now that night after Lucifer's appearance. All he couldn't have known inside of it. Or about the end of the end.