[Jaskier would have to be blind, without ears, and possiblyt without a brain in his skull to go without realizing exactly what Geralt is attempting to do. The Witcher is a white knight, of course, but while one could never call him exactly eager to help with menial tasks (Jaskier ignores his complaining), Jaskier always manages to cajole him into helping in the end.
This time came with very minimal complaint. Actually, he can't recall hearing a real complaint as he turns into a ship captain and throws Geralt order after order, intent on his stand being nothing less than perfect.
It's getting there. Progressively. He's perfected the curl of ivy wrapped around the stand's tiny bit of awning (a good salesman knows to attract eyes by giving the people a bit of time out of the sun), only to find that Mog has eaten leaves off of it when he wasn't looking.
He doesn't have the heart in him to discipline him. Yet. But Jaskier does glare at the beast. Instead of leaves, Jaskier gives him a bowl of chicken cutlets to distract from any further destruction, and it's while Jaskier is fixing those torn leaves that Geralt's voice returns, one of the final batches of sprouts in a crate with him.] Friend? You might call him a disturbance at this point! [Except when Jaskier turns and lifts the gryphon into his arms -- who wiggles his back legs and gives a very impolite chirp -- there's a great smile across the bard's face.]
His name is Mog. Isn't he perfect?
[Jaskier does not add that Mog is also the reason the new living spaces may be pushed back a month.]
no subject
This time came with very minimal complaint. Actually, he can't recall hearing a real complaint as he turns into a ship captain and throws Geralt order after order, intent on his stand being nothing less than perfect.
It's getting there. Progressively. He's perfected the curl of ivy wrapped around the stand's tiny bit of awning (a good salesman knows to attract eyes by giving the people a bit of time out of the sun), only to find that Mog has eaten leaves off of it when he wasn't looking.
He doesn't have the heart in him to discipline him. Yet. But Jaskier does glare at the beast. Instead of leaves, Jaskier gives him a bowl of chicken cutlets to distract from any further destruction, and it's while Jaskier is fixing those torn leaves that Geralt's voice returns, one of the final batches of sprouts in a crate with him.] Friend? You might call him a disturbance at this point! [Except when Jaskier turns and lifts the gryphon into his arms -- who wiggles his back legs and gives a very impolite chirp -- there's a great smile across the bard's face.]
His name is Mog. Isn't he perfect?
[Jaskier does not add that Mog is also the reason the new living spaces may be pushed back a month.]