[ His brows draw together. Hm. Admittedly, not what he expected Dean to say. He doesn't grasp, entirely, what Dean means to ask—they are close. Jaskier is his oldest friend. He isn't sure what that has to do with Jaskier's presence in his domain. ]

Few set foot in Kaer Morhen back home. We aren't open to outsiders. [ Probably not the explanation Dean is searching for, but it's the one Geralt gives: Jaskier is the only person who knows enough about Kaer Morhen that he might feel he were intruding. For everyone else, they've merely stumbled upon an old crumbling fortress of no significance. ] And Jaskier is plenty in my space out here. I can only be drooled upon so many times in my sleep.

[ The remark is dry, but without any real irritation—a thing he's used to. Here is not the first time he's shared a bed with Jaskier. Sometimes a backwater village has exactly one bed available for the night. You make do. Cadens has been no different, given they came here with lint in their pockets and a stolen ring to their name. Two beds has been all they've managed between the three—then four—of them. Half the time, he sleeps on the floor of their rented home. The other half he's nursing a bruise or some other injury, so he shoves Jaskier over to take a portion of the mattress. Not ideal, but it suffices. ]