[He tips his head. It's not so much that Geralt's silence is any more mysterious than it has been in the past, but... well, it's not as if he specifically comes to seek him out all that often.
So he does want company. Perhaps he'll refrain from poking fun at him about it any further tonight.]
I do so love it when you lead me into dark, mysterious corners, where I have no idea what to expect.
[But he does enjoy walking with him. In this city, like so many towns and cities in the past, there are looks. Either it's the presence of the Witcher with him, the constrast of Geralt's blacks with his own bright colors (which, today, are royal blues and dandelion yellows.) It is only a mere echo of the paths they'd once walked together, but after so much excitement as of late, he can't help but search for those faded ghosts of nostalgia.
Their sphere feels farther away than ever.
Jaskier doesn't pay much attention to where they're going, but he has a suspicion the closer they go. And there it is.
A bathhouse, of all places. Seemingly a bizarre place to invite him to without prompting.
But he understands. He smiles, opening the door and holding it open for the Witcher.]
A distinct lack of cocktails, but a good choice nonetheless. [He turns to him, watches him coming in. The presences his body takes up. Was he thinking what Geralt was thinking? In this, it was hard to tell. Yet.] And the perfect chance to enjoy a bit of nudity between friends.
no subject
So he does want company. Perhaps he'll refrain from poking fun at him about it any further tonight.]
I do so love it when you lead me into dark, mysterious corners, where I have no idea what to expect.
[But he does enjoy walking with him. In this city, like so many towns and cities in the past, there are looks. Either it's the presence of the Witcher with him, the constrast of Geralt's blacks with his own bright colors (which, today, are royal blues and dandelion yellows.) It is only a mere echo of the paths they'd once walked together, but after so much excitement as of late, he can't help but search for those faded ghosts of nostalgia.
Their sphere feels farther away than ever.
Jaskier doesn't pay much attention to where they're going, but he has a suspicion the closer they go. And there it is.
A bathhouse, of all places. Seemingly a bizarre place to invite him to without prompting.
But he understands. He smiles, opening the door and holding it open for the Witcher.]
A distinct lack of cocktails, but a good choice nonetheless. [He turns to him, watches him coming in. The presences his body takes up. Was he thinking what Geralt was thinking? In this, it was hard to tell. Yet.] And the perfect chance to enjoy a bit of nudity between friends.