There's the faintest interest in his eyes when Kylo treats his remark with sincerity. Most would presume not. He makes a noise in response that seems to say, Fair enough.

No. Clearly not concerned. Though who here is? Someone's already made her entry on a fucking cow beast and Jaskier's winged miniature bear is guzzling wine off to the side. Geralt's found it easier to simply take things as they are, such as a man smoldering upon the grass and looking as if he belonged in an especially dramatic painting.

No wonder the bard was enamoured.

Speaking of. Geralt's gaze lands on Jaskier. Lute in hand, as always. If Kylo is assessing the Witcher, Geralt seems to pay little mind. Pleased is one way to put it. He knows Jaskier was—concerned. Back there. Not that they've especially solved anything after getting the hell out.

"Little less caged," he replies. "Lifts the mood. Food was better in there, though."

That is said dryly, even if there's truth to it, too.