[Hardly necessary (yet), but Jaskier is more than happy to quite craftily pretend it's needed without falling to the floor. Look, a man can dream of rather attractive, strong arms whenever he wishes. It hardly matters who they're attached to sometimes.

He laughs.]

Why, yes, I suppose that's what you call it, isn't it? [A colloquialism, he imagines, but one he understands nonetheless.] I simply can't help myself. [He smiles, and pauses, and certainly it is only because of the drink that his heart flutters a little.

This is going rather well. It often takes hours before he can get a simple touch out of someone other than a pat on the hand. His eyebrows raise in interest.] Is it working? It seems to be working. And since it's working, it's only right I ask for my fair companion's name. [It's probably something hard and sexy, like Antoni. Aleksander. Oooh.] I am, of course, your master bard, Jaskier.

[He holds onto Bucky's arm as he takes a little bow. This time, the arm is necessary. The floor gets a bit too close.] Your personal flatterer.