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[gynvael]

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Geralt is always reachable by the network. Unless it's an emergency, expect not to hear back for a few hours, if not a few days.

To talk to him in person, you'll need to be in Cadens or go to his domain, a snowy mountain fortress. Yard is open; doors are locked. If he isn't around, leave a delivery with the white wolf.

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[gynvael]

[ He tilts his head. Fair. ] I can't make promises for him.

[ Stephen strikes him as a practical man; he trusts him, in large part because Sam does, but he can acknowledge that when it comes down to it, he doesn't know Stephen well enough to say what might happen should their agendas not align. Hasn't happened between them. They aren't on those terms yet, where Geralt would be willing to take responsibility on the man's behalf.

He leaves it at that. Beyond a warning, there isn't much else to do. In a sense, his concerns settle closer to home: Dean himself. Physically, with the miles separating them, he imagines Lucifer can do little. And Dean did not tell him he has someone in Thorne already to speak to nor ask for who Geralt means, which suggests his ties to those who live in the castle are minimal.

But he's seen enough of Dean's past to understand there are more ways than one to bleed. ]

Has he been coming here to look for you?

[righteously]

( If he'd bothered to ask for the name, he might be slightly reassured — he's met Stephen once or twice. Knows he's in Sam's crowd. Seems sharp, seemed willing to negotiate back at that fight during the dimming when he could've easily kicked Dean's ass left, right, and sideways.

But at the end of the day, Dean still doesn't know him. Maybe it wouldn't make a difference. )

Just once.

( He sighs, reaching down to grab a bar rag. He uses it to scrub away Lucifer's mark with a note of finality — an unnecessary action when he could probably just will it away, but he can't shake the itch to do something physical about it. If Geralt weren't here, he might even bust out a sander. Wear the wood down. Fill it up. Polish it smooth.

This is better than nothing. )

He might be back. Might not. If he shows up when the gang's all here, he'd probably learn to stay scarce. Dude's dangerous and full of himself, but I doubt he'd try to tangle with a whole bar full of hunters at once. Not until he gets his bearings, anyway.

[gynvael]

[ A little contemplative, Geralt watches the mark vanish. (Still isn't certain why it's a pitchfork. Seems not particularly threatening, a farm implement.) 

It says enough, that Dean seems to feel a tavern full of hunters might be enough to keep Lucifer away, or at least make him hesitate. That's worth noting. Father of demons or not, he still has a things he's cautious of. Some time, he might ask Dean exactly what it all means, between fighting the devil and winning and fucking up the end of days (or one of them, apparently), but.

A conversation for later. ]

Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

[ He'd rather not cast that wager. Even in the Horizon, matters can grow more complicated than...petty vandalism. Which seems to be a thing that demons in Dean's world do. He doesn't add anything else. Just thinks, in the meantime, he might ride by the Roadhouse a bit more often. ]

[righteously]

Yeah, no kidding.

( It's an unhappy mutter, punctuated by Dean gently tossing the rag into the small bar sink.

If it does come to that, he gets the feeling Geralt wouldn't sit on the sidelines. He gets the feeling he'd have a partner on the field. That doesn't solve anything, he knows it wouldn't be enough to win a real fight, but it's enough for him — or it's at least enough to leave him feeling about two percent less crappy than he did before this conversation.

Which he doesn't say, not in so many words. Instead, what Geralt gets is a solemn, weighted: )

Thanks. I know you got a million better places to be right now, tackling scorpions or getting frisky with Sam out there in the middle of nowhere, so... Thank you.

( For showing up when he asked. For listening to his novella and taking it seriously. For sticking around.

He's never been one to shy away from expressing gratitude, least of all for stuff like this. )

[gynvael]

[ His gaze stays on Dean for a few moments. He had not thought twice about showing up—if Dean's asking while Geralt's working, then it's important; why would he not come?—but Dean's gratitude suggests something about his expectations. Geralt senses it is not one that reflects on their relationship.

He gets it. It's difficult to explain—how it happens, when you learn from early on that you can rely on very few, when it isn't exactly a source of disappointment or a case of mistrust. It just is. People protect their own. And it takes a lot before it ever sinks in that maybe, for once, you happen to count as part of that.

There's a nod, the only acknowledgement of the depth of what Dean's saying, before Geralt makes a vague dismissive sound. ]

His turn on watch, anyhow. He can converse with the scorpions. [ Though it's true he shouldn't leave Sam alone too long. They're further out than usual, and Sam's not as familiar with the landscape.

Dean gets a hand on the shoulder as Geralt rises from his seat. ] If you've plans to wrestle a devil some time, do tell. I'll place a wager.

[righteously]

( There's a moment, an expression he wears when Geralt does the classic manly shoulder thing — short, less heavy than the others so far, but still faintly affected. Dean is, by nature, a fairly hands-on guy with friends and family. It's an entire language in and of itself, one he arguably often speaks better than English. Also, not something he's had much of in the last seven months. He appreciates it.

But it's just that: a moment, one that doesn't linger. One that transitions easily and habitually into obligatory humor. Serious to sarcastic in one swift maneuver, as is the Winchester way. )

Yeah, okay. Shut up and get out of my bar.

( Like he's even remotely annoyed by that exchange. Like he'd ever actually kick Geralt — or anybody he legitimately likes — out of the place he innately wants to populate with them.

Geralt does have work to do. There's nothing else to be done now aside from that warning, and the informational broadcast surrounding it.

They're good.

When Geralt leaves, Dean does bust out some sandpaper to take to the space where not even a hint of the mark exists anymore. For posterity. )