[Okay, maybe "a lot" was too much, but he feels it's important enough to be spoken in person in the only way he is able. Of course, Jaskier is also very talented in making a few necessary words whole paragraphs that no one asked for, which is surely to be the case here, too.]
Why, of course. [Honestly, he does peek in, taking a step that shifts the air from freezing cold to a dry balm. Though the cottage contains some things he doesn't recognize, it is unmistakably as warm, the very form invoking that feeling of coziness. He pulls his cloak around him and the hood over his head, though the very nature of the Horizon itself would likely make it so such clothes are unnecessary.
Apparently the two of them take comfort in pretending.
In a world devoid of life, he wonders what animal provided the fur -- or what she imagines it to be -- for her coat. He can't help but think of a white wolf. Or those white winter rabbits. The style is quite unlike the ladies of his sphere, but it's flattering. It suits her. All that white pales her out; she becomes a spectre in the snow. Perhaps a noonwraith. A striking vision.]
Beautiful, indeed. [He smiles and, as they step out of the cottage, he offers an arm. It needn't be taken, of course.] What was it you were listening to? Before I interrupted.
no subject
Why, of course. [Honestly, he does peek in, taking a step that shifts the air from freezing cold to a dry balm. Though the cottage contains some things he doesn't recognize, it is unmistakably as warm, the very form invoking that feeling of coziness. He pulls his cloak around him and the hood over his head, though the very nature of the Horizon itself would likely make it so such clothes are unnecessary.
Apparently the two of them take comfort in pretending.
In a world devoid of life, he wonders what animal provided the fur -- or what she imagines it to be -- for her coat. He can't help but think of a white wolf. Or those white winter rabbits. The style is quite unlike the ladies of his sphere, but it's flattering. It suits her. All that white pales her out; she becomes a spectre in the snow. Perhaps a noonwraith. A striking vision.]
Beautiful, indeed. [He smiles and, as they step out of the cottage, he offers an arm. It needn't be taken, of course.] What was it you were listening to? Before I interrupted.
[His tone indicates he feels no remorse for it.]