[If Jaskier were a vile man, perhaps he would feel satisfaction at the sickeningly wet crunch of bear teeth into a man's body. As it is, he's just that -- getting sick. He swallows heavily, tasting bile, pausing only a moment to catch his air into burning, screeching lungs. The frigid air bites back, even if his whole body has heated from the run.
There's blood splashed in the snow. He shakes his head.]
That was the point. [And while it's cold of him, Jaskier's hatred is few and far between, and reserved for these specific men. And, as it was, Reno had caught onto his idea. He had even aided in it.
Jaskier looks him over. A suitable companion, if not only because he's dangerous.] Don't worry. He had it coming.
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There's blood splashed in the snow. He shakes his head.]
That was the point. [And while it's cold of him, Jaskier's hatred is few and far between, and reserved for these specific men. And, as it was, Reno had caught onto his idea. He had even aided in it.
Jaskier looks him over. A suitable companion, if not only because he's dangerous.] Don't worry. He had it coming.