[ fucking odd is pretty damn accurate, and 'painfully naïve' wouldn't be off the mark either, so it doesn't occur to castiel that jaskier isn't the expert on local tradition and culture that he's trusting him to be. the angel's eager to learn and the bard's clearly willing to teach, so this is happening.
you look rather poor. well, his pockets are empty of funds, and he isn't employed, though he'd never been employed, ever, since the dawn of time. still, jaskier isn't wrong. ]
I suppose that's not inaccurate. [ cas admits in a hapless murmur, eyes sliding off to the side.
while he isn't exactly in need of anything, neither does he have any real kind of income, besides lifting and moving heavy things for tradesmen in exchange for goods, or angel-teleporting insta-deliveries. there may be an marketable service in there, but how can he expect to gain clients if he doesn't look like a respectable member of this society? cas pays rapt attention to the suggestions, like he'd be taking notes if he had the money to afford parchment, but the first option earns a vague wince. ]
A friend once told me men with goatees are douchebags, beatnicks, or Guy Fieri. [ so, that's struck from the potentials list. thank you, dean winchester. ] But I did once have a coat.
Though, it was tan. [ a beat, and this is just getting more disheartening as he goes on. style has never been his strong suit. ] And ill-fitting, apparently.
[ usually a source of ridicule more than compliment. he's pretty fond of that coat, it's comfortable and warm, but a more tailored version wouldn't go amiss. the feathered hat - maybe that's a viable, more affordable option. cas lifts the hand still presenting jaskier's coin, and asks with genuine and unmasked concern, ] Is this enough for a feathered hat?
no subject
you look rather poor. well, his pockets are empty of funds, and he isn't employed, though he'd never been employed, ever, since the dawn of time. still, jaskier isn't wrong. ]
I suppose that's not inaccurate. [ cas admits in a hapless murmur, eyes sliding off to the side.
while he isn't exactly in need of anything, neither does he have any real kind of income, besides lifting and moving heavy things for tradesmen in exchange for goods, or angel-teleporting insta-deliveries. there may be an marketable service in there, but how can he expect to gain clients if he doesn't look like a respectable member of this society? cas pays rapt attention to the suggestions, like he'd be taking notes if he had the money to afford parchment, but the first option earns a vague wince. ]
A friend once told me men with goatees are douchebags, beatnicks, or Guy Fieri. [ so, that's struck from the potentials list. thank you, dean winchester. ] But I did once have a coat.
Though, it was tan. [ a beat, and this is just getting more disheartening as he goes on. style has never been his strong suit. ] And ill-fitting, apparently.
[ usually a source of ridicule more than compliment. he's pretty fond of that coat, it's comfortable and warm, but a more tailored version wouldn't go amiss. the feathered hat - maybe that's a viable, more affordable option. cas lifts the hand still presenting jaskier's coin, and asks with genuine and unmasked concern, ] Is this enough for a feathered hat?