He braces himself, the easy smile on his face fading a little bit. He likes it, doesn't he? Yet that is exact the sort of thanks that is immediately followed by a but...

Fuck. There it is.

Jaskier watches him, lifting an eyebrow. Astray? Can this man even lie convincingly? And what on earth could he --

"My comrades?" He supposes there's a first time for everything, yet certainly that is the first and only time his friends should be referred to as comrades. Also, that really doesn't narrow it down, Estinien. "Who? Ciri?" She seems the most likely if only because she is particularly prickly, but he's not sure if they had a chance to meet in the cages before the portals came.

"Geralt?" While Estinien seems to feel strongly about this, Jaskier doesn't. He's only ticking off names. "Bah, it doesn't matter. What's that got to do with wine? Don't tell me. You don't drink? At all? Come, I must be able to convince you to try it."

Oh, wait. He can't promise what? "I mean, unless you're planning on coming over here to, I don't know, stick me with a knife or something, which I would find particularly rude."