Stupid. [ Ciri responds gruffly. Meaning Alina. Not Jaskier.

Jaskier, she squeezes in return, grateful beyond words for his presence. ]

Reckless... idiot...

[ The offer earns a sound that isn't quite a laugh, not quite a sob, something of a wheeze like something being stepped on. ]

Maybe later.

[ After a minute, Ciri finally releases him, feeling a tiny bit calmer if not exactly better. She reaches for the pitcher of ale and refills both their cups. ]

For some reason, she thinks Mal is there. Isn't sure, but it was enough. They are... close. And he is from her sphere.