[It's good Geralt doesn't say it, because Jaskier would've snapped at him. What's he bloody think Jaskier's thought about for years? Why they are friends? Why would he not care about his happiness? Geralt's an idiot about most things, but this is Jaskier's sticking point.

He is not a Witcher to Jaskier.

He is always Geralt first.]

I age the same as anyone. I know how to take care of myself, thank you. [Besides, scratching at the scruff on his chin, he can't say he isn't looking aged, for sure. He's open to the idea Nadine likes it, though. Who doesn't like a soft scratch during a kiss?

Jaskier smiles up at the stars.]

A secret: I don't really, either. [He misses parts of it. The people. The people he helped, especially, when he was in a position to. That is really the only thread that still connects him. The elves. If only -- there must be someone who will continue his work.]

I know what you mean. [His thoughts go to Hector, to Nadine. To Rhy. To Alucard. Friends, he knows, he could never have made without this place.

All of a sudden, he laughs.] Oh, no. I suppose I'll never be forced to become the acting viscount. A true tragedy for Lettenhove, I'm sure.