[How Geralt has surely changed. He does not even refute that he is, indeed, the Wolf's bard. And he does not add how he never asked for it, the thankless bastard. He simply... makes his little laugh.

Jaskier watches him, but also doesn't bring up when he can see. If he does, then they shall have to further acknowledge it. He swallows heavy enough. He already knows what he has to do about this. Who to tell.

It should be the first time he's ever purposefully gone around Geralt's back.]

I hardly think you need worry about it. And even if I do, I'll still have the much prettier face. [Jaskier follows him, and joins, but the wine bottle joins with him as he takes another swallow.

Bah. He's gone to sleep with worse tastes in his mouth.]

It's hardly a scratch. The closest I've ever come to meeting death is still at the hands of your lovely daughter.

[And it's been long enough he can make the jest.]