( Yeah, he does trust Geralt. Despite what flew out of his mouth, despite how he's been acting, that's not even a real question. It's not about trust — neither him holding this back for weeks now, nor the long silence that follows that earnest appeal.
It's about a handful of vastly more complicated other things, reasons that weigh heavy on him now. That have him scrubbing a hand across his mouth and turning his back to Geralt to pace away a few slow steps.
Seconds pass, and it would be inaccurate to say Dean spends that time debating, or contemplating, or struggling through any rational arguments. The truth is he spends it thoughtlessly, his mind as rough and blank as white noise, feeling. His fingers flex; the muscles of his forearm feel tight.
Three or four bandits in a housefire, and all he wanted was to keep driving his fist into one of them. Why should I even risk letting you stick around? The want to hunt nonstop. The want for things to come to god damn blows now.
Hard to keep pretending like he's got everything under control when he didn't even realize he was losing it until afterward. )
It's not good.
( He admits at length. Another beat passes before he finally turns around again to level Geralt with a raw, solemn look.
The confession comes reluctantly, thickly; )
Geralt... I think it might be bad, man.
( It's a confession, but it's also an apology. Not just for acting like a dick, but for something deeper. Something else. )
no subject
It's about a handful of vastly more complicated other things, reasons that weigh heavy on him now. That have him scrubbing a hand across his mouth and turning his back to Geralt to pace away a few slow steps.
Seconds pass, and it would be inaccurate to say Dean spends that time debating, or contemplating, or struggling through any rational arguments. The truth is he spends it thoughtlessly, his mind as rough and blank as white noise, feeling. His fingers flex; the muscles of his forearm feel tight.
Three or four bandits in a housefire, and all he wanted was to keep driving his fist into one of them. Why should I even risk letting you stick around? The want to hunt nonstop. The want for things to come to god damn blows now.
Hard to keep pretending like he's got everything under control when he didn't even realize he was losing it until afterward. )
It's not good.
( He admits at length. Another beat passes before he finally turns around again to level Geralt with a raw, solemn look.
The confession comes reluctantly, thickly; )
Geralt... I think it might be bad, man.
( It's a confession, but it's also an apology. Not just for acting like a dick, but for something deeper. Something else. )