[His hand stills. He stares at their hands piled together, this thing, like a snapping, inside him. There is one thing he did not bring Geralt here for: to comfort him. Nor receive it in turn. The two of them have never sought such a thing in each other, and never needed to. Not this particular brand of it.]

What a bold assumption. What makes you think I wanted to?

[He doesn't pull his hand away, which is the only indication that, perhaps, the touch has steadied him. A little. For a moment. He has never been more relieved in his life to see Geralt in that desert. Alive, though he was hurt. Again. And still he barely knows what happened.

It isn't entirely for Geralt's comfort he's avoided it. A part of him -- a part too large to ignore -- does not want to know. Because it will mean things. And those things will affect him. He doesn't want to take on anymore. He's so godsdamn tired.

Jaskier sighs.]

I went to your domain. With Amos. [He doesn't believe Geralt will mind that part, if they had some sort of... bond.] To look for a note, a sign. There was a door with a lock on it, but it did not remain so when I went to open it. And...

[His throat constricts, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Amos's reaction. What it meant. It's not fair to throw this on Geralt after so many years, but it is Jaskier's first time living through it, and he cannot apologize for his heart.] I saw what lay in your basement. [He swallows the lump that bobs in his throat. It's really not only the basement. It's the basement, and the diagrams, and Geralt coming home with welts flaying his back open.] I promise, we needn't talk about it. I simply wanted you to know, so it doesn't... so you don't think I meant it as some sort of -- of violation.