In Jaskier's defense, Estinien had primarily startled himself awake - or, at least, his brush with the Horizon had. As his consciousness begins to settle, he also realizes that beginning this meeting with "you" might be coming on a little strong. Yet, what else was he meant to call him, when they had never exchanged names? His other self had just not been that concerned with it.

Convenient as it is to think of that being as something separate from himself, he knows that's not the case. If anything, it has been the consolidation of fragmented parts, working off of lingering instincts from both himself and Nidhogg, with no memories to put them into context. He doesn't know if he should be ashamed, or embarrassed, or any number of other things, to have the curious mingling of his soul be so nakedly displayed.

He certainly would have made different choices with the weight of experience guiding him. Especially now that he can easily source the turbulent emotions that had fueled that day in the valley.

The bard - Jaskier, apparently - in contrast, seems very much the same.

Estinien crosses his arms around himself, trying to decide how best to deal with this. Does he need to explain himself? Perhaps not. They all underwent the same thing. Yet, their encounter had been... intimate... in a way others had not. What must this man think of him? He genuinely doesn't know. He has no pressing reason to care, and yet...

"Estinien Wyrmblood," he manages, the most straightforward thing he can say. "I was..." Not myself? It'd be a lie. "I'm finding it complicated to explain."

Even to himself. Is that really what his own subconscious thinks he should be? Is that what he is, untempered by lessons learned?