[Ten? Minutes? Hours? Wait, he didn't -- ah, shit. Jaskier scurries around to clean up, then, before the guest arrives far more promptly than he was actually prepared for, especially when he was at the stable with the horses. They're taken care of for now until he can return Viktor's; he makes his way home and just beats Jayce there, the cane tucked under his arm.
He must be another Summoned, of course, but Jaskier doesn't quite have an image in his head of what this man could look like.
When he opens the door, he is caught off-guard. His mouth hangs open for a moment, before he makes a soft noise and licks his lips.] Ah. You must be Jayce?
[Must be. Melitele, look at the bulk of him. It's very rare Jaskier meets anyone built like Geralt, let alone... larger. (Goro does not count, thank you.) Jaskier, luckily, was already dressed to impress because it's simply how he is: a fantastic new collared button-up in navy blue with embroidered poppies by the sleeves, which he wears down even in the summer heat. Not for any other reason than he's grown used to it, and he dislikes when his scarred arm takes attention off his face.
He steps out of the doorway, inviting him inside with a sweep of his arm.] Come in, come in! You may as well stay for a bit of tea. My, you know, you look a bit familiar, now I think of it. [And so Jayce doesn't feel terribly trapped, he offers Viktor's cane over, already wiped clean of desert sand and grime.] Ah. I think you were working on a very large stack of paperwork. [When the Free Cities were considering their hard-won "cooperation" after more Singularity nonsense.
Fuck's sake. He hadn't gotten close enough to take in the bulk of him. Or that lovely, angled face.] As close as Viktor and I have grown in our times hunting pigeons, he never mentioned you were so handsome. A lack of oversight on his part, I imagine.
[Yes, Jaskier is capable of flirting even after a harrowing day of trying to figure out if Ciri was dead or not. In some way, he's even more likely to do so.] And you've heard from him? He's fine? I imagined he must be, as Ciri didn't mention otherwise.
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He must be another Summoned, of course, but Jaskier doesn't quite have an image in his head of what this man could look like.
When he opens the door, he is caught off-guard. His mouth hangs open for a moment, before he makes a soft noise and licks his lips.] Ah. You must be Jayce?
[Must be. Melitele, look at the bulk of him. It's very rare Jaskier meets anyone built like Geralt, let alone... larger. (Goro does not count, thank you.) Jaskier, luckily, was already dressed to impress because it's simply how he is: a fantastic new collared button-up in navy blue with embroidered poppies by the sleeves, which he wears down even in the summer heat. Not for any other reason than he's grown used to it, and he dislikes when his scarred arm takes attention off his face.
He steps out of the doorway, inviting him inside with a sweep of his arm.] Come in, come in! You may as well stay for a bit of tea. My, you know, you look a bit familiar, now I think of it. [And so Jayce doesn't feel terribly trapped, he offers Viktor's cane over, already wiped clean of desert sand and grime.] Ah. I think you were working on a very large stack of paperwork. [When the Free Cities were considering their hard-won "cooperation" after more Singularity nonsense.
Fuck's sake. He hadn't gotten close enough to take in the bulk of him. Or that lovely, angled face.] As close as Viktor and I have grown in our times hunting pigeons, he never mentioned you were so handsome. A lack of oversight on his part, I imagine.
[Yes, Jaskier is capable of flirting even after a harrowing day of trying to figure out if Ciri was dead or not. In some way, he's even more likely to do so.] And you've heard from him? He's fine? I imagined he must be, as Ciri didn't mention otherwise.