[Sam only earns a wry snort for the comment. It's not really about what Geralt hears; perhaps Jaskier is different in that he has always been so used to Geralt hearing everything. Jaskier had never had anything to hide. The only thing he'd been annoyed by was Geralt commenting on his songs before they were finished, but it was a rare occurrence he commented on anything in the first place.

No. What really bothered him was how much Geralt sees. Not with only his eyes. He breaks things down without being told a single clue, if he must. Jaskier must be realistic with himself. Geralt already knows something happened to him.

He won't ask. But he knows.

Jaskier waves his hand, waves the sentiment off.] Don't worry. I never wait for anyone. [That's never what... any of it was about. Waiting. It was about moving forward, deciding there were things better for him. We're better off without him.

Far from true, even now.]

What... brings me joy? [He turns to Sam, raising a brow, his hands stilling.] Are you being serious right now? [He is. That's a serious question.] Unless you wish to give me a mild head injury with those sizable biceps of yours, there's not much you can do, I'm afraid.

[You know, so he could forget the last year. Forget that the Continent is on the brink of shit, forget that... well. He's a sorry sack when things don't go his way.]