[If Jaskier has ever swooned in company, he certain is now. No offense to the women of the Continent, but they hardly ever come in this shape, or especially this size.

Oh, yes. She's utterly gorgeous. And could break him in half, which --

Only makes it better.

He straightens up with bright eyes.] A cavalier, you say? A bloody fucking knight? [Oooooh, that is going to make for some lovely materials. A formidable force, a storm; he would pay all of his current coins for a chance to see her on a horse. Perhaps a lance in hand? No, sword certainly fit more. One of those big ones. The broad ones.

He was never wrong. When inspiration hit him, it was for good reason. Already he felt stories would practically ooze out of her, and certainly she had the personality who may share the most satisfying of gritty details.]

Oh, yes! A real dragon hunt. [He puffs up as if he was the very one hunting it. (He definitely wasn't.)] I am saddened to say I'm not sure of this sphere, but certainly on my own. Only days prior to my -- appearing here, I was on a dragon hunt myself.

[Of course, a day before that Jaskier also thought they were a myth, but he is loathe to admit it now.] It'd be hard to tell, what with their ability to blend in among us.

[Borch certainly fooled him all the way up that fucking mountain.]