[His brows shoot up. That... doesn't that make sense, after all? Jaskier has been take as The Sun before ever announcing himself as such, and he doesn't necessarily go out of his way to show the symbol on his clothing. (Not that he doesn't love the very idea of it, the Tarot, the symbology of it, romantic in its designs, even if it compartmentalizes so much of his complicated character.) He did not consider, nor did the books tell him, that they could be tracked down through the Signs.

That... that was going to make things much harder for himself and Geralt. Fuck.

Jaskier nods, listening quietly. He isn't sure why this prisoner thought to trust him with this, but he's honestly quite thankful for it. It's the sort of information that would behoove them to know when they make their eventual escape. Or attempt so.

The poor woman. She is already taking this harder than he's seen from the other prisoners. Though it must not be easy; it's even trickling through Geralt's hard exterior, so much so that he knows others must see it. Being here for so long --]

I can't promise you a real meal, but... is there something I can get for you? [He puts a hand on the bar, near hers.] I feel I owe you at least a little recompense for the story. [It's startling to realize how easily it could have been Geralt's story, too. Though it still itches why he didn't attempt it, escape. Did he know about the sigils?] And I'll look for your friend when I can.