[ She hands over the whiskey to Ciri, gently runs her fingers through Jaskier's hair. Her goal had been to alleviate their worry, and though she senses some small amount of accomplishment on that end, she also feels like she's increased it in other ways. The whole thing is incredibly fucked up, but at this precise moment, only one of the three of them needs to fret over him, and Julie's the one with his blood on her clothes, under her nails. There's nothing productive about the two of them stewing over this before Geralt even makes it back to them.

Snorting softly, she bobs her foot where her legs are crossed, leans back on her hands. ]

Sugarbear, you ain't comin' to Nott. Even if it wouldn't take weeks on end, it ain't safe to cross the border. He's safe with me. We'll keep him a couple days, patch him up, then I'll get him back to Cadens.