[ Jaskier, he considers, has some time yet left in his performance. There's a pattern to what the bard chooses to sing; Geralt has learned when he's nearing the end of a set or if he's arrived at the start, and he estimates right now Jaskier is somewhere just over halfway done. It's surprising, then, that as he's contemplating if he wants to drop a few extra coppers for a bite to eat, he finds that Jaskier is already moving off stage.
Geralt looks up. A furrow knits his brows together. Jaskier has not ended his performance early to come speak to him. Jaskier does not ever interrupt his performances unless Lady Death herself is knocking. Possibly not even then.
His gaze roams over Jaskier. The bard speaks, and Geralt gives no reply while he puzzles out what he's missing. Jaskier may be good at distracting others with chatter, but Geralt's mastered the art of ignoring chatter when he's onto something. Whether he's aware of it or not, there's an instinctive compulsion within him that, when it rears its head, means Geralt will not let a matter go until he's found the answer. Which he does. It clicks, a minute or so later, as Jaskier rubs his arm.
It shouldn't catch him off guard. He knows better than anyone wounds do not always heal in full. That scars are not only marks which sit upon the surface. But he'd been hoping that it was different with Jaskier. That the potion had healed him quickly, effectively. For a few weeks, that'd seemed to be true. Jaskier hadn't shown signs of recovery. At least not where his arm was concerned. Just the typical irritation that a scar leaves behind. So this—it must be a new development. Also not unusual. It happens. It's just...he doesn't want to say he feels guilty. He's aware no one's to blame for what happened. An accident, in the truest sense of the word.
No, it isn't a sense of fault. One of responsibility, perhaps. Because Jaskier is here, alongside him, mired in this horseshit they've been dragged into. From the start, he's meant to keep Jaskier safe. Jaskier and Ciri both. And in that, it feels as though he's beginning to slip. Or already has, more than he should've allowed.
When he finally reacts, it's to take his ale back. He doesn't ask after Jaskier's arm. He knows the reason now, why Jaskier has stopped playing early, why he looks faintly strained, and that's all that matters. Raising it is pointless. Jaskier will not want to talk about it because if Jaskier did, he'd not be trying to hide it in the first place.
Instead, Geralt says, ] Have you got places to be tonight?
no subject
Geralt looks up. A furrow knits his brows together. Jaskier has not ended his performance early to come speak to him. Jaskier does not ever interrupt his performances unless Lady Death herself is knocking. Possibly not even then.
His gaze roams over Jaskier. The bard speaks, and Geralt gives no reply while he puzzles out what he's missing. Jaskier may be good at distracting others with chatter, but Geralt's mastered the art of ignoring chatter when he's onto something. Whether he's aware of it or not, there's an instinctive compulsion within him that, when it rears its head, means Geralt will not let a matter go until he's found the answer. Which he does. It clicks, a minute or so later, as Jaskier rubs his arm.
It shouldn't catch him off guard. He knows better than anyone wounds do not always heal in full. That scars are not only marks which sit upon the surface. But he'd been hoping that it was different with Jaskier. That the potion had healed him quickly, effectively. For a few weeks, that'd seemed to be true. Jaskier hadn't shown signs of recovery. At least not where his arm was concerned. Just the typical irritation that a scar leaves behind. So this—it must be a new development. Also not unusual. It happens. It's just...he doesn't want to say he feels guilty. He's aware no one's to blame for what happened. An accident, in the truest sense of the word.
No, it isn't a sense of fault. One of responsibility, perhaps. Because Jaskier is here, alongside him, mired in this horseshit they've been dragged into. From the start, he's meant to keep Jaskier safe. Jaskier and Ciri both. And in that, it feels as though he's beginning to slip. Or already has, more than he should've allowed.
When he finally reacts, it's to take his ale back. He doesn't ask after Jaskier's arm. He knows the reason now, why Jaskier has stopped playing early, why he looks faintly strained, and that's all that matters. Raising it is pointless. Jaskier will not want to talk about it because if Jaskier did, he'd not be trying to hide it in the first place.
Instead, Geralt says, ] Have you got places to be tonight?