[ His eyes land on Jaskier, steady. He came here because Jaskier understands her. Jaskier has always understood all of them, he thinks, better than themselves. He isn't looking for someone to be angry or hurt alongside him, to capture it and unleash it twofold. This, what he feels—it's his, it's private. It isn't meant to be shared. It need not be amplified. Jaskier is not angry with her, on his behalf or otherwise. He cares about her in his own way. That's what Geralt wants. Someone who will be there for her because he no longer has it in himself to do so. ]
I know. [ It's not laughable at all. The world is cold, dark. And he's found, over the years, that when it's too much, Jaskier has been there. Warm—insistently, protectively so. Safe. He hadn't known what to do with it at first except push it away.
He adds nothing more on the topic. For awhile, he sits, silent, Jaskier's hand on his. Eventually, he takes a sip of the wine. ]
I, ah. [ He scoffs a bit, like he knows how absurd it will sound. ] Your little pet. His bed is by the window.
[ Yes. He finished it. And the damn thing better like it. It's a nice bed. ]
no subject
I know. [ It's not laughable at all. The world is cold, dark. And he's found, over the years, that when it's too much, Jaskier has been there. Warm—insistently, protectively so. Safe. He hadn't known what to do with it at first except push it away.
He adds nothing more on the topic. For awhile, he sits, silent, Jaskier's hand on his. Eventually, he takes a sip of the wine. ]
I, ah. [ He scoffs a bit, like he knows how absurd it will sound. ] Your little pet. His bed is by the window.
[ Yes. He finished it. And the damn thing better like it. It's a nice bed. ]