[ His head cocks. Is it that surprising of an assumption? It does not occur to him that Jaskier would think him unwilling to believe it, his magic. Jaskier has crafted Sam an entire bird which seems about as lifelike as anything. Freshening a loaf of bread feels trivial in comparison and not particularly dramatic, which is why he's assumed Jaskier had not mentioned it.
Though obviously, this is about more than fruit and bread. He blinks, and then frowns, but does not interrupt. He does...realize. The toll it's taken on everyone. He wishes it weren't the case, that none of them care so fucking much over him, but at the same time, he also—he appreciates it. All of their efforts. Even if he hasn't the first fucking idea what to do in response. Now that he's back, now that he's home. Somehow he doesn't feel like he's home. Not entirely. Maybe a part of him was left behind in that room in Thorne.
Carefully, he lays his hand over Jaskier's for a brief moment to still it. He can hear Jaskier's heart beginning to speed up, hear his agitation. ]
I know it's been shit. [ As an understatement. He pauses. He's aware Jaskier has been cautious—not pressing, not asking. It's not what he wants. He's not made of glass and he doesn't care for Jaskier to wear himself out, keeping it all inside. He knows how his friend is. Jaskier does not do well keeping what's on his mind buried. Besides, if there are topics Geralt has no desire to grant details to, he's perfectly capable of saying so. ] You've wanted to talk to me. So talk.
no subject
Though obviously, this is about more than fruit and bread. He blinks, and then frowns, but does not interrupt. He does...realize. The toll it's taken on everyone. He wishes it weren't the case, that none of them care so fucking much over him, but at the same time, he also—he appreciates it. All of their efforts. Even if he hasn't the first fucking idea what to do in response. Now that he's back, now that he's home. Somehow he doesn't feel like he's home. Not entirely. Maybe a part of him was left behind in that room in Thorne.
Carefully, he lays his hand over Jaskier's for a brief moment to still it. He can hear Jaskier's heart beginning to speed up, hear his agitation. ]
I know it's been shit. [ As an understatement. He pauses. He's aware Jaskier has been cautious—not pressing, not asking. It's not what he wants. He's not made of glass and he doesn't care for Jaskier to wear himself out, keeping it all inside. He knows how his friend is. Jaskier does not do well keeping what's on his mind buried. Besides, if there are topics Geralt has no desire to grant details to, he's perfectly capable of saying so. ] You've wanted to talk to me. So talk.