A bold declaration. [He smiles but doesn't quite laugh, because he understands Istredd fairly means it, and the bard does not take such declarations lightly. How easily it feels that they've done such steps in this dance before, and yet it feels as if his first attempt at it.

Perhaps it is as simple as Istredd's common origin. They lived vastly different lives, but they both understand the sort of people the Continent births. Why they are the way they are. Why Jaskier loves people like Geralt, and why Istredd loves people like Yennefer. There's a pure, easy understanding. It gives him some footing to lean back on.]

You know what? I agree. [That it is a very smart thing, indeed. And bold that he must have asked that lover of his for permission to branch out.] Clichés are so used because they hold reoccurring truths, universally acknowledged. And who am I to shirk the bold words of a mage? [He leans into the touch, the hand. If they weren't intending to eat (though Jaskier has mostly forgotten), he would already have Istredd in a bed. Or against a table. No, scratch that; he should have Istredd holding him against the table. Possibly even using magic to do so.] You know, I think the same of you? [He drags a thumb over Istredd's lower lip, teasing.] I would love to explore these in particular. What do you say to bringing our meal upstairs?