Geralt's accusation brings a spark of laughter and it feels even more genuine than the last as it escapes him. Blake can see that there's little sense in leaving if his purpose is to be clean, but even with masks and layers, there's no stopping the world from depositing grit across the whole of him again. Even inside they aren't wholly safe from it because it comes through cracks on gusts of wind and is tracked in on the bottoms of boots. He's cleaner than he was and that's what matters to him at the moment.

Surprised that it's earned a comment at all, though, he paces closer, chin tilted up, arms crossed, and fingers twitching against his sides. "As opposed to undoing the peace and quiet? Maybe." Blake cocks an eyebrow right back at him. "And nevermind the risk to Jaskier's closets..."