Jaskier senses there is a lot going on in Estinien's silence and, he hopes, some sort of revelation, so he's quite patient in allowing him to take it all in. He considers offering Estinien a seat that he summons up, but he could guess he won't take it. He's already stiff as a board.

He can't really blame him. Jaskier has... well, he's himself, and he knows it is not easy to know Geralt. Even after all those decades together, the Witcher still tried to get him to shove off. And he'd nearly tried again, when they were brought here.

It's the way he is. It's that simple.

Jaskier huffs a laugh at how serious his answer is, and he steps close to pat his arm companionably (and, okay, he wants to look at his wings. Gods. The size of them! Ooh, he bets they're soft in that way like snakes are. Or bats?) "The way I am? I love the sound of that." Not sarcasm. As if he's this strange, unfathomable thing. Like Geralt, apparently. "Don't worry about it, my friend. Believe me, I know intimately well of how tight-lipped Geralt is."

He could give him a lesson on maybe how he should calm down on his assumptions, but... perhaps he caught on? "You know, it was quite coy of you to come spy on me. I would advise next time you may check I'm actually upset. Though, to be fair, I'm certain you'll know."

It's only honest. Jaskier does not hide any of his problems with people.