[ Ever punctual, Geralt shows up shortly after nightfall. A handful of places in the Horizon have become a second, third, home to him, and the Roadhouse is one that's rapidly rising to take on that status. He opens the door without knocking, steps inside to find Dean as he expects.
His gaze sweeps over the man—studying, questioning, before landing on the symbol etched into the counter. It means nothing to him—a trident? A pitchfork?—but Dean's evidently ruminating on it.
He slides onto one of the stools. Little time is wasted cutting into why he's been asked here. He picks up the conversation as though minutes, not hours, have passed since their last exchange. ] You said a thing?
no subject
His gaze sweeps over the man—studying, questioning, before landing on the symbol etched into the counter. It means nothing to him—a trident? A pitchfork?—but Dean's evidently ruminating on it.
He slides onto one of the stools. Little time is wasted cutting into why he's been asked here. He picks up the conversation as though minutes, not hours, have passed since their last exchange. ] You said a thing?