[Despite her initial reaction, he grins. Ah, well! It's nothing to dissuade Jaskier from furthering his gallant approbation; not everyone is, of course, graced with the manners to accept them so politely. And clearly this sort of woman is not... probably not a mere courtier.]

One can imagine! [Er, literally. He absolutely does not spar.] Your joy shines as radiant as the sun. Even a mere observer couldn't miss it.

[And perhaps that really says what caught his attention. Many were concentrating during the magic demonstrations and the sparring alike. Stuffy, serious magic-and-sword-types. All talented (especially compared to his, ah, display) but a little... stale.

Stale does not serve as adequate distraction.

He nods.] One cannot help but write when struck by such a formidable muse.

[He pulls the lute to his chest, plucking a few sweet, soft notes as he recites the words. He has no qualms about playing while people are attempting to move around him to pick at food.]

Words leave me weak, with empty cause
Yet so I grasp them. An infinite pause in this Sphere
as Gold of the sun, kissed on the edge of a sword.
How envy burns for skin split in two.

[He wrinkles his nose a little; it's clear he's not entirely satisfied with them yet.] My apologies. It's only a start.