[Jaskier waves a limp hand at his complaints.] Here's fine. Promise.
[Look, he might be an uptight, tight-assed little bard, but he's very used to sleeping on all matter of surfaces, thank you, sometimes with real rocks and sticks and bees nesting in his hair. (An unfortunate side effect of some rather potent oil he crafted for his hair in the past.)
He snorts, and he is so very far from attempting to fight it. Perhaps if he'd been taking care of himself for the last few weeks, if he hadn't a weakened arm, a ride for an hour carrying the bulk of the injured Witcher would've been nothing. Or it could simply be the Chaos deciding that his lifeforce is particularly scrumptious; Ciri's certainly had no complaints when her magic erupted across his arm.]
Then carry me. I'm not helping you. [To be fair, not because he doesn't want to. He rests his head on Sam's very comfortable and sexy pectoral now that it's been offered -- well, he imagines it's sexy, it's a shame he's never seen it.
Oh, no. He's going loopy. That's often a bad sign for Jaskier, in particular.] You know, at least you don't have to worry about my death on your hands this time. A nappy nap and I'll be right as... [He loses the word for a moment.] Rain? Is rain really right? We're in a desert, after all.
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[Look, he might be an uptight, tight-assed little bard, but he's very used to sleeping on all matter of surfaces, thank you, sometimes with real rocks and sticks and bees nesting in his hair. (An unfortunate side effect of some rather potent oil he crafted for his hair in the past.)
He snorts, and he is so very far from attempting to fight it. Perhaps if he'd been taking care of himself for the last few weeks, if he hadn't a weakened arm, a ride for an hour carrying the bulk of the injured Witcher would've been nothing. Or it could simply be the Chaos deciding that his lifeforce is particularly scrumptious; Ciri's certainly had no complaints when her magic erupted across his arm.]
Then carry me. I'm not helping you. [To be fair, not because he doesn't want to. He rests his head on Sam's very comfortable and sexy pectoral now that it's been offered -- well, he imagines it's sexy, it's a shame he's never seen it.
Oh, no. He's going loopy. That's often a bad sign for Jaskier, in particular.] You know, at least you don't have to worry about my death on your hands this time. A nappy nap and I'll be right as... [He loses the word for a moment.] Rain? Is rain really right? We're in a desert, after all.