What? [He lifts his head again, staring at Ciri as if he's trying to figure out if she means that or not. First one...? No, you know what? It can wait for another day. He shifts onto his back, staring at the roof above. His tiredness has reached a point that feels bone-deep, but it certainly is not fair for him to take the bed when he's had one.
He considers arguing for it. He's not a complete bastard, though.
Eventually Jaskier manages to crawl off the bed with a huff, noting that the Witcher and the girl have gotten... quite close. Closer, he thinks, than he's ever seen anyone with Geralt. Besides -- well, her. Yennefer. Obviously. And this is not like that.
Jaskier purses his lips.] Right. I forgot about your bloody Witcher senses. They must be back if you're sticking your nose in my lute case!
[It is old hat that Geralt knows to leave certain things of Jaskier's alone. Specifically that case. And his lute... his lute which is not in it. It's a fine enough lute, what they provided to him. But it is not his. And now, with the freedom to miss it, the weight of its loss suddenly returns.
He regards his companions in silence after his half-hearted snap, and somehow, the sight of it lessens that weight in him.]
Look at you. Two peas in a pod. [He rubs his face, then, with a sigh, smiles.] I suppose I can be convinced to share. As long as you remember the meaning of the word, Geralt.
[He may have stuck his tongue out a little as he goes to open his case, but he will not acknowledge it. The lute inside is still surprisingly safe, and his hand runs down the neck before he lifts it. Behind the instrument are the few things he managed to steal and he, luckily, brought with him prior to the execution. He is now no less thankful that was the day they'd picked, he and Hector. It would've been glorious.
Nestled in the groove where the lute's neck lay is a wine bottle wrapped in velvet, which he definitely also stole. He takes it, offering it to Ciri. The cork already sticks out a bit. (How else was he to be brave enough for the escape today?)] Ladies first.
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He considers arguing for it. He's not a complete bastard, though.
Eventually Jaskier manages to crawl off the bed with a huff, noting that the Witcher and the girl have gotten... quite close. Closer, he thinks, than he's ever seen anyone with Geralt. Besides -- well, her. Yennefer. Obviously. And this is not like that.
Jaskier purses his lips.] Right. I forgot about your bloody Witcher senses. They must be back if you're sticking your nose in my lute case!
[It is old hat that Geralt knows to leave certain things of Jaskier's alone. Specifically that case. And his lute... his lute which is not in it. It's a fine enough lute, what they provided to him. But it is not his. And now, with the freedom to miss it, the weight of its loss suddenly returns.
He regards his companions in silence after his half-hearted snap, and somehow, the sight of it lessens that weight in him.]
Look at you. Two peas in a pod. [He rubs his face, then, with a sigh, smiles.] I suppose I can be convinced to share. As long as you remember the meaning of the word, Geralt.
[He may have stuck his tongue out a little as he goes to open his case, but he will not acknowledge it. The lute inside is still surprisingly safe, and his hand runs down the neck before he lifts it. Behind the instrument are the few things he managed to steal and he, luckily, brought with him prior to the execution. He is now no less thankful that was the day they'd picked, he and Hector. It would've been glorious.
Nestled in the groove where the lute's neck lay is a wine bottle wrapped in velvet, which he definitely also stole. He takes it, offering it to Ciri. The cork already sticks out a bit. (How else was he to be brave enough for the escape today?)] Ladies first.