[The pat is somehow more awkward than if he'd simply ignored it. Jaskier bites back a sharp sound, possibly a laugh, and sets his hand back down in his lap. He wouldn't disagree, honestly. Gideon is a wonderful person to talk to. She may even handle this better than he is.

He leans back into the bench with a sigh, crossing his legs... which, unfortunately, does not cease the jumping, but turns more into a shaking foot at the end.]

I suppose I wouldn't hold it against you if you did, in fact, go to howl at the moon. I've had similar urges myself. [But is was more like screaming. Which howling could be, in wolf-form. He's never asked.

He'd love that book. But as inclined as Jaskier is to talk about himself, he doesn't mean to look for reassurance on what to say, either. It's clear there is nothing that will soothe those ills, those pains.]

Pff. It's only Geralt being Geralt. Endlessly complimentary. You're hardly wrong, anyway. I prefer my company as dramatic as possible.

[Included company as well. And. Well. Jaskier himself.] What do you say to a drink? On me. Not -- not physically on me, but. A glass of wine or two.