Triss is a rare person. Everyone who has ever met her likes her, including the harshest of the Brotherhood. And Geralt.

[ There is a touch of sadness in his smile but he doesn't let it overtake him. Triss is well at home, at least to the time point that they know, and with Yennefer and the other survivors. He holds onto that even if he is not with them. She will do great things with them.

Any lingering thoughts of that are swept away when Jaskier touches him and his eyes widen slightly, color streaking across his cheeks. The beard hides most of it but Jaskier is close enough to probably see it. He is who he is, a grown man who blushes under the right scrutiny, and Jaskier's gaze is definitely that. He likes the intimacy of the moment and leans into the touch. ]

I'm glad I had some practice in the ballroom then, so as not to put you off.

[ Istredd was in fine form that night because he felt confident in himself without anyone being able to see him. He usually carries himself more certainty when he feels sure of himself. He reaches out to caress Jaskier's cheek with the back of his fingers. It feels very natural, strange enough. ]

I knew her long before that was true. It's part of what she hates about me. [ When they were both young and in many ways still innocent, despite how they were raised. Istredd saw her then, as no one else could, and that will be true of the two of them until the day they die. But he's not with Yennefer right now. ]

But perhaps that's something the two of you have in common. Turning men into fools with just a smile.

[ Istredd can be very good with his words too, given the chance. And it's all with the air of absolute sincerity that follows him everywhere. ]