[ Sounds about right. If Jaskier has seen fit to aid in a rescue, then he's likely let it go where it counts. Might not have let it go enough to not bring it up when it suits him to be petty, though.

Geralt makes a noise of acknowledgement. Dean is also, in Geralt's eyes, rather peculiar, but that's mostly just the sort of company he keeps. It takes a certain disposition to follow a surly Witcher into bogs and swamps. Or go hunting with one.

He releases the branch. The leaves shrivel into ash as they move away. Even to Dean, he speaks rarely of Jaskier. The most anyone knows is that they're friends—and that Jaskier has a repertoire of songs about him. ]

When we met, he was bright-eyed, picking bread off the floor. He demanded to know what I thought of his ill-received song. I told him to fuck off, so he decided to follow me and never left.

[ Have twenty-three years of friendship condensed into three sentences. ]