[This is really the problem with speaking to Alucard in wolf form. (Though he far prefers this over the bats, thank you.) The longer the conversation goes, the more there is this sense in the back of Jaskier's head that he is simply talking to a stray wolf that does not understand him. Even though he knows the scar. He knows that wolves do not simply wander around human cemeteries this close to cities.

Oh, right. Not for free. That's fair. Even though Jaskier doesn't think he needs compensation to help, but the world has always worked that way, hasn't it?]

What's that face for? [He's pretty sure he's pulling a face. Wolf muzzles. Hard to read.] He's your friend, isn't he? [And once the words are out of his mouth, he's not sure. The concept of "Geralt" and "friends"... oof. Right. Jaskier waves a hand through the air. Some bloody things don't change.] All right, he probably isn't, but that's not the point. What would you like? A bag of coin? I can grow you whatever you'd like. We just... [And here, any attempt at humor leaves his tone. He's pale, and his voice cracks.] We have to find him. Please.

[He holds himself back from anything more. If something happened. If he's hurt. If he's dead. He has to know. They have to. Even if this only ends with Geralt having fucked off to another city to heal a wolf bite, whether he'll be fucking pissed to find they've involved everyone they know... it doesn't matter. As long as they do know.]