[ Dean receives no answer, but for once, it's because Geralt's genuinely not got one. An indifferent lift of his hand follows: a gestured fuck if I know as he finally dismounts. Perhaps he killed a friend, a brother. Given his occasional run-ins with bandits out here, that's most likely.
Also narrows the list down none.
Either way—Geralt clearly doesn't recall the human confronting him. He can see the instant the man realizes that. Insult to injury, Geralt supposes. Not being remembered.
He falls in beside Dean—doesn't bother telling him that he can (should) leave. In the back of his mind, Geralt recognizes the curse mark combined with a potential fight might prove...unpredictable. But there's nothing he can do about it. He already knows Dean will not leave him to fend for himself—even though a few humans wielding rusty blades hardly constitutes a threat—and these men will not walk away.
And sure enough, in the space of a hair, the axe comes flying at his face. ]
no subject
Also narrows the list down none.
Either way—Geralt clearly doesn't recall the human confronting him. He can see the instant the man realizes that. Insult to injury, Geralt supposes. Not being remembered.
He falls in beside Dean—doesn't bother telling him that he can (should) leave. In the back of his mind, Geralt recognizes the curse mark combined with a potential fight might prove...unpredictable. But there's nothing he can do about it. He already knows Dean will not leave him to fend for himself—even though a few humans wielding rusty blades hardly constitutes a threat—and these men will not walk away.
And sure enough, in the space of a hair, the axe comes flying at his face. ]