[Darganfod...? No, Jaskier will not comment on anyone else's naming schemes. Or why -- why Istredd has some sort of mechanical hound. To be fair, if someone asked, Jaskier has no explanation for the morbol, either, particularly because it almost destroyed his entire domain.
(It's cute, not intentionally evil.)]
It's, err... yes, let's call it a pet.
[Jaskier is not as upset if the hound (?) happens to eat his morbol, but he also assumes the creature will suffer some very nasty indigestion. Mogworth hits him in the head again, making no response to Jaskier's "ow!", wriggling out until he's free of Jaskier's hands.
About to head off to take care of the morbol problem, he assumes, until Geralt shows back up holding it. Remarkable how Mogworth and Geralt have the exact same expression, completely devoid of joy or compassion for the creature dangling from his arm.
Jaskier takes the morbol, placing it on his shoulder. A tentacle slaps onto his ear and attaches with suction cups.] You better not have bruised him, Geralt, he's as sensitive as a peach. [He clears his throat, ignoring Mogworth staring daggers at the morbol.] Sorry about your, er, metal dog thing. I hope it's unharmed? I'm afraid there's a bit of -- well, you know how the Horizon is sometimes. Screwy. It's screwy.
SO SORRY FOR MINE TOO
(It's cute, not intentionally evil.)]
It's, err... yes, let's call it a pet.
[Jaskier is not as upset if the hound (?) happens to eat his morbol, but he also assumes the creature will suffer some very nasty indigestion. Mogworth hits him in the head again, making no response to Jaskier's "ow!", wriggling out until he's free of Jaskier's hands.
About to head off to take care of the morbol problem, he assumes, until Geralt shows back up holding it. Remarkable how Mogworth and Geralt have the exact same expression, completely devoid of joy or compassion for the creature dangling from his arm.
Jaskier takes the morbol, placing it on his shoulder. A tentacle slaps onto his ear and attaches with suction cups.] You better not have bruised him, Geralt, he's as sensitive as a peach. [He clears his throat, ignoring Mogworth staring daggers at the morbol.] Sorry about your, er, metal dog thing. I hope it's unharmed? I'm afraid there's a bit of -- well, you know how the Horizon is sometimes. Screwy. It's screwy.