[ He's kept the little sketch, even after the painting debacle.

That loud reaction wasn't one he was expecting... Astarion's eyes widen as he's startled by the table pounding, and then his gaze darts to the table at their left, locking eyes with another patron long enough for his gaze to narrow in a glare at them before turning back to Jaskier. ]

Well - yes? I suppose? A curse, a vampiric bane, whatever you'd like to call it... [ it's all fairly common knowledge in adventuring circles. Clearly it's different in Jaskier's realm for vampires, though. ] ... I suppose it's one of the lesser issues we're burdened with - but it's taken over two centuries to catch even so much as a glimpse of myself.

[ Which, at this point, he's fairly certain is a problem Jaskier can empathize with. There's something cold and distant in his tone as he explains, but then he sighs, shaking his head and waving his hand again. ]

A friend's been instructing me on a spell to get around it to a degree. A loophole.

[ So don't pity him too much. Or at all. That's the last thing he wants or needs. ]