[Geralt's offering is quite obvious to Jaskier, and since he's never been in the habit to insist the Witcher eat more than he takes, he says nothing about it. An orange and wine is better than going without either.
His gaze tracks to Ciri. The thanks is much more than he's ever grown used to in his current company, so for now, he forgives her for snapping earlier. Perhaps it really is just hunger and exhaustion.]
Think nothing of it. [He returns to his spot with another chug of wine, setting the empty bottle aside, and peels an orange. As he makes his way through it, slice by slice, he slides slowly down, more relaxed and more exhausted by the second. Somewhere between his fourth and fifth yawn, Jaskier's eyes close and he curls up on his side, head pillowed on an arm.
At this point, it doesn't matter where he rests anymore.]
no subject
His gaze tracks to Ciri. The thanks is much more than he's ever grown used to in his current company, so for now, he forgives her for snapping earlier. Perhaps it really is just hunger and exhaustion.]
Think nothing of it. [He returns to his spot with another chug of wine, setting the empty bottle aside, and peels an orange. As he makes his way through it, slice by slice, he slides slowly down, more relaxed and more exhausted by the second. Somewhere between his fourth and fifth yawn, Jaskier's eyes close and he curls up on his side, head pillowed on an arm.
At this point, it doesn't matter where he rests anymore.]