[ Ciri dodges the bit of dough with ease. Jaskier gets to clean that up off the floor now; not her problem.

Leaning on one side against the edge of the table, she cocks a fist on her other hip, tipping her head toward Jaskier as he suddenly seems to remember his own penchant for puffing up his ego when no one else is doing it for him.

Ciri gives him wide eyes, an unnaturally doe-like expression in her best attempt at pretending he's impressing her. ]

Oh, yes. That's certainly something! The only man in all the worlds, here and beyond, capable of playing the music you write. We should be commissioning a statue. I think I'm going to swoon.