Only because I nattered about getting one, thank you. And told her to use it!

[He still doesn't understand how the Witchers can stand eating where they cut up beasts, and he says that after having met the rest of the wolves and seeing the inside of Kaer Morhen.

Here he'd thought some of the shittier brothels he'd ended up in were depressing.

Jaskier removes the bag from his hip, placing it gently on the beach. Mog's mostly curled up, mostly asleep until the moon rises again and he finds his energy reserves. It's enough time for Jaskier to appreciate a little dip. How could he come to the sea and not enjoy it?]

I don't know, I liked the sirens a bit. Lovely breasts. Big, big tails. [He holds his hands up as if to emphasize the.... tails.] The threat of being eaten alive, but possibly cock-first. The sort of things a man dreams of.

[When he's a bit drunk and depressed and finds appeal in dying mid-coitus, of course. Or Jaskier is simply being dramatic.]