At some point Blake lifts his arm, wrist held under his nose to test for bard. He's sure it's there, but having been steeped in it, the essence is gone to him. Instead, he smells the inner workings of this lab — less appealing, more so unfamiliar, but not unpleasant by any means — and perhaps something of Geralt in the mix, too.

He shrugs. "You make me sound pitiful." It's not untrue, and even as he says as much, he's smiling ruefully. There's a sense that Geralt can (and will) scruff him and toss him right out if he misbehaves too egregiously. He certainly doesn't have the grace that Jaskier might otherwise inspire. Still, he's as surprised by Geralt's invitation to stay as he was about the man's decision to allow him to bathe: That is, not too much at all. He's much softer than he looks.

He settles at the workstation next to Geralt, his inquisitive gaze trying to make sense of what's laid before him. At Viktor's he's used to something different and more mechanical. This alchemical approach, if that's what it is, still feels unreal. Perhaps because it's only been recently that he's even tried magic (and at Jayden's behest, no less).

"What is it?" The underlying question, unspoken but maybe obvious by Blake's ready hands: And can I help?