[Honestly, if you ask Jaskier, he would say his wit is utterly wasted on Geralt and has been for years. Except in this moment, he's feeling especially fond, and he isn't even annoyed by Geralt's ignoring all of his commentary. (Though he rarely, if ever, is.) It's a heart made light by an enjoyable evening, warm drink, warmer company -- company laid out before him on a bed, as if this is further invitation.
Predictably, it is.]
Darling Witcher. [His hand moves up. Palms between his legs as he sets the ale back on its table. He moves, straddling Geralt's legs, returns his hand over his very tight trousers. (He's never seen the hunting benefit, but Jaskier has yet to complain.) A shame this isn't the Horizon, if only because clothes need be manually removed.] You know I rarely do.
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Predictably, it is.]
Darling Witcher. [His hand moves up. Palms between his legs as he sets the ale back on its table. He moves, straddling Geralt's legs, returns his hand over his very tight trousers. (He's never seen the hunting benefit, but Jaskier has yet to complain.) A shame this isn't the Horizon, if only because clothes need be manually removed.] You know I rarely do.