The scene that unfolds before him is an absurdist comedy of immeasurable proportions: the two fluffy bear-creatures, waving sword and lute; Jaskier, rescuing his beloved (?) miniature monster and reattaching its severed limb. For once, Geralt is not silent because he hasn't anything he cares to say. He's just. Baffled.
And increasingly uncomfortable by Mogworth's entire...everything. His black-turned-gold antenna. Pursuing a monster for attacking his. Moogle friend. Its inexplicable silence when, as far as he's told, these creatures do not stop chattering.
After a long moment, Geralt claps Jaskier on the shoulder, the universal signal for Good luck, but I'm leaving now. ] I'm sure you'll be fine.
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The scene that unfolds before him is an absurdist comedy of immeasurable proportions: the two fluffy bear-creatures, waving sword and lute; Jaskier, rescuing his beloved (?) miniature monster and reattaching its severed limb. For once, Geralt is not silent because he hasn't anything he cares to say. He's just. Baffled.
And increasingly uncomfortable by Mogworth's entire...everything. His black-turned-gold antenna. Pursuing a monster for attacking his. Moogle friend. Its inexplicable silence when, as far as he's told, these creatures do not stop chattering.
After a long moment, Geralt claps Jaskier on the shoulder, the universal signal for Good luck, but I'm leaving now. ] I'm sure you'll be fine.
[ And he's gone. ]