[ Having been looking around town for some sign of Geralt, Blake is more than impressed with how tight-lipped people seem to be. No one's seen him around — that's the main takeaway — but outside of making his wonder and concern incredibly obvious by asking Geralt via brain-text, he has little recourse (in an illogical world) but to track down the musical bard Blake's seen singing around town about the Witcher. ]
Hey, I'm Blake—
[ Said without preamble, he looks as if he has more to add, but upon getting close enough to offer his hand in greeting, he can't help but stutter through an unhelpful stream of oncoming thoughts. ]
You're good— Music is— You're music is— [ ... ] —good.
[ An impressive start to this conversation, no doubt, which Blake promptly wishes he could take back. He seriously considers backing out altogether, but since he lead with his name, there's probably no living this down anyway. ]
absolutely!! I love blake ;; (maybe I stalk him and geralt a little)
[Jaskier is hardly taken aback by anyone wanting to introduce themselves after one of his sets; it happens far more often than it doesn't, and he does attempt to remember both names and faces... but he does, of course, meet scores of people on the daily.
Luckily, if they introduce themselves first, he's rather safe from misremembering.]
My music is brilliant. [He smiles back, taking Blake's hand and squeezing it -- he still doesn't fully appreciate handshakes -- then raising it to kiss the back. Why else would he be so nervous? He must be a fan.
Obviously.] But I'm glad such a handsome fellow thinks so. I imagine I don't need an introduction? [Not because of his ego -- just -- but because he introduces himself every performance. Still, his lips are curled, and they've already held hands.] Here to ask for a private performance? You needn't be so nervous, I promise. I am but a humble bard.
[He only starts with the humble line if he's already attempting to get into someone's bed.]
[ Talk about marketing. Blake would be utterly impressed — and has been before — but the unexpected greeting leaves him suitably fazed. He feels the instant his palms turn to sweating and he swallows back against the urge to stutter on. Is there a phrase for being momentarily blinded by a person's immense confidence? ]
Yeah, I've heard the recordin's, seen a coupla shows, nothin'— nothin' too extreme.
[ If it's an attempt to dispel the impression of starry-eyed obsession, it might sound utterly insincere, but working in Viktor's shop and bumming around Cadens also leaves him privvy to plenty such things. ]
You gotta coupla minutes to spare? Promise I won't keep you from the next set.
[Nothing too extreme? Jaskier's smile widens. My, that's more than plenty of the other people. His favorite is when his fans try to downplay it a little, as if it may become overwhelming for him for their true enthusiasm to unleash.
And what a fascinating accent. He's never heard anything like that before... or maybe only once, now he thinks back -- an edge of something like that from the child he met in the black market. The nervous one. Definitely similar to Blake, but younger.]
My dear, I have as many minutes to spare as you may need. [He steps away only to place his lute back in her case, the strap going across his back. They may not go far, but he never leaves her behind. He may have separation anxieties after what happened to his last lute. (The only lute he's had since he was a teen.)] Come, I have a table reserved we can take up. Order whatever you'd like.
[ Swept up into the widening swath of effortless movement at Jaskier's hand, Blake's hardly able to register all the happenings (or maybe a bit too star-struck to properly try). His attempts to obtain a swift answer — something that should only take seconds of the minutes promised — are stifled expertly and before he can even get a word out, he's seated and being stared at expectantly for the very order Jaskier's encouraged.
A whatever he's having is the best Blake manages before recentering himself and clearing his throat. ]
Your music gets stuck in my head all the time. Catchy stuff.
[ Maybe he shouldn't have interrupted what is clearly this man's work. Or maybe he should get to the point and not waste any more of Jaskier's time. Either way, Blake feels crushed beneath the fascinating war between seeking quick answers and seeing where this goes. ]
[What he's having is about the richest ale this tavern contains within it, which is about half as nice as the stuff he gets in ritzier places -- but it's good, and it isn't swill, and he's ordered a bit of buttered bread to go with it. Singing needs a throat well taken care of, and a belly that isn't empty. But it's simple fare that will go down easy.
And he hardly minds spending coin for the company of pretty voices and even prettier faces. Jaskier props his head up on a hand, pointedly gazing at his company. Taking him in.]
Catchy. [He repeats the word, a small twitch in his lips. Catchy is for nursery rhymes and ditties that warn children to stay out of the woods at night. He smooths his smile back onto his face. He understands that this man is not particularly talented with his words -- or reigning in his anxiety -- and so Jaskier gives him a berth for what is intended to be a compliment.] I'm glad you think so. The sort that you hum to yourself going about your day, hmm? [His gaze moves from Blake's eyes down to his lips.]
Now, I don't mind if you came to talk to me about my music -- as you can imagine, it's my favorite topic -- but I have an inkling you may have come to me with greater purpose, Blake. [He smiles again, raising his eyes.] You hardly need flatter me so for a bit of warmth in my bed.
[ Thinking he must have said something wrong — the word catchy does not come to mind — Blake spends too many seconds in his head analyzing the shift in demeanor to even refute the unspoken assumptions. On paper, he's far more eloquent than he sounds, and were it not for a solid six months of despair upon his arrival, he might have caught on even quicker to Jaskier's pointed appreciation. Instead, he's tipped further off-guard. ]
What? No, I— That's not— what I was here for—
[ (Although...)
Blake clears his throat and this time there is no hiding his discomfort, although it's unlike the rest: He laughs, maybe a little charmed by the direct approach, and scrubs at his nape like a man caught. He really wouldn't mind one bit under normal circumstances (far from it), but it's not the reason he came. ]
A shame. [At least his spluttering is absolutely enjoyable. Jaskier always imagines two sort of responses to that line of inquiry -- always an eager acceptance, or something similar. Well, one could hardly fault him for misunderstanding his current circumstances, considering how he was approached.
Still, Jaskier leans back with a sigh, propping his boots up on an empty chair.]
Of course. [His disappointment is immeasurable, and his day is ruined. This is hardly the first time he was approached because someone was looking for Geralt. It's not as if he's made a secret of their relationship, and it's quite obvious considering he sings songs about the man.
It also doesn't mean he isn't suspicious; a habit that stems from the Continent more than Abraxas itself, though it feels more than mere coincidence he's being asked right after Geralt's gone.] I see him rather often. [Which doesn't exactly answer the question.] Why are you looking for him? I hope you aren't here to hire him. For one, I'm not his manager, and two, he isn't here.
As the bard's demeanor makes a mercurial shift, Blake's dark eyes follow the movements, taking in the boots and the attire — certainly nicer than his own — and eventually returning to make eye contact once more. If he had that kind of confidence, he supposed he'd be annoyed, too, if someone treated him like a messenger or errand boy.
"It's nothin' like that. Not this time," he says, tone lightening a hair as if to prove he's no threat at all. And truly, even with training, he'd very much fall short when faced against Geralt. Luckily, they don't really find themselves at odds (so far). "Just owe him a coupla favors and I had some ideas I wanted to run past him."
Blake squints a hair, considering, before finally admitting his stance with a vague gesture in Jaskier's direction. "I know you two're—" Friends? Companions? Blake doesn't fish for more, but he suspects if he's too off the mark he'll be corrected. "So that's why I asked. Maybe not the best way to meet a celebrity like you."
What's this? A drink to drown his sharpening tongue? Blake eagerly tucks in, if only to shut himself up. He's here for a reason, after all, and it doesn't do to drag out what appears to be growing misery on his companion's part.
[Not "this" time? While it's far from unheard of for Geralt to not mention his friends -- a bit like he forgot to mention Dean dying, the stupid git -- Jaskier can't help but suddenly be eyeing Blake much less lazily than before, though he doesn't allow his expression to change. Had Geralt slayed some monster for him at some point? And not told him? Jaskier really will wring his neck one of these days.
Favors. Ideas. They're not very Geralt-y things. And Blake's found a very unfortunate time to ask him about Geralt; while normally he'd only be a modicum bothered, now the questioning feels outright suspicious. With Geralt being imprisoned and working in the mines for what he did, and refusing to tell the Free Cities what, exactly, he did --
Why, this could be a Free Cities agent right at his doorstep! How quaint. Usually people torture him when they want things from him.]
Best friends. [He pointedly offers, once again drawing up to prop his head on his hand, fingers tapping his cheek as he smiles at Blake, barely blinking as the drinks hit the table.] Oh, I hardly mind, don't worry. [He's an expert at picking himself up again when he needs to, because now he's... curious.] Well, I hate to tell you he's currently out of the city. If you need a message passed along to him, I'll be happy to help.
[Which is certainly opposite to his not his manager line. He draws a finger around the lip of his drink.] Perhaps you can tell me these favours you owe him. The idea that anyone should think they owe Geralt anything is very... fascinating.
[ The drink does well to hide Blake's mouth — it's something that feels almost necessary as he sits across from Jaskier who seems to be watching closely, indeed — but the appreciation for the quality of the drink doesn't go without acknowledgement. He looks at the glass, rolling it around in his fingers to draw out the time before he gives Jaskier the satisfaction of an answer, finally nodding. ]
Sorry, why's that fascinatin'? You don't owe him favors?
[ It's perhaps the first time Blake's managed to get a grip on himself during this conversation and he's letting a thin amount of amusement seep into his demeanor. He hasn't heard all that much about Geralt besides what's been commonly shared, but in the short time they'd spent together, he'd never gotten the feeling that he shouldn't treat the guy any different from anyone else. ]
[With the question, one can only assume Blake has not known Geralt long enough -- or well enough -- to get the whole Witcher lowdown. Which isn't really putting points on the "not suspicious" side of things.
Or Jaskier is letting suspicion win over the idea that Blake simply has interesting thoughts.
Well, that's the worst that could happen?]
Geralt and I don't operate on that sort of level. We're beyond something as pedestrian as favours. [Yes, it's true that Geralt's saved his life... more than once. Technically. But also technically, he would not have been in those situations where he almost died if Geralt also hadn't been there. So it sort of evens out when you think about it.
And that is to go without saying that Geralt would be dead and/or destitute without Jaskier's insistence that he writes songs of the Witcher's hunts. He's never been thanked for it, but it is a fact Jaskier knows well.] Do you really consider friendship an endless dance of who owes whom what? That's a bit too transaction-y if you ask me.
[Is that a word? He's making it a word right now.]
[ Blake has heard a little of Geralt's history, true enough, but only what's been given. In most cases, Blake wouldn't stop there. He's a curious one, and especially driven when it appears the information in question will unlock a whole slew of doors holding answers behind them. But Geralt has, despite his reputation, taken Blake's recent... frailty of spirit in stride.
It's arguably compassion that seems to be at the root of their current companionship — between the child in the mine and the subsequent trip into the Featherhive together, what else could it be? — not that Blake wants to say as much. ]
Nah, it's not like that. You kiddin'? Feel like that guy wouldn't ask a favor to save his life, anyway. Mostly I had some stuff I wanted to discuss 'bout the mines, maybe have a drink, bring a snack from the incredible baker up the street from my place.
[ The tension that begins to leave him is being replaced with a sense of understanding. Whatever it is between Jaskier and Geralt, it feels deep. No wonder the guy's giving Blake a hard time. ]
S'pose I'd owe you a favor if you told me where he's holed up, but since you don't believe in those...
[ He shrugs, barely holding back the essence of a shit-eating grin. ]
[Jaskier barks a laugh, mostly because Blake isn't wrong on a very technical level; it's only in, what, the last year? Year and a half? That the old bastard has learned even how to ask for help. It's not favours. That is not how Jaskier sees it -- whether about being bait for Rience, or finding Ciri, or taking her to Kaer Morhen. It's help.
And that's growth. Even in an hundred and seventeen or whatever year old Witcher.]
Not from most people, to be sure. Geralt has always carried his own burdens, even to his own detriment. [That's simply the truth. It was almost nearly always to his own detriment, actually.
He snorts, but he does smile. Blake has observed him enough -- or bothered enough -- to discover the core of the Witcher. It's not rare, exactly, not in this world... but it is enough of an effort to make an impact on Jaskier. Either way, he hardly thinks this Blake is a threat to Geralt. The only thing to use against him now is information. It would be a waste, pretending he didn't know where he was if he was, indeed, sent by the Portham Hall authorities.
And maybe Jaskier finds him amusing, and his accent adorable. It's not the hardest to appeal to his fancies when they're whimisical, and his mood mercurial.] Don't think I don't know what you're doing. [But it is working.] Even if I did believe in them, I don't need your favours. [He drums his fingers against his cheek. Still, he's handsome, and he feels genuine enough.] If you know about the mines, then I suspect you can find Geralt quite well indeed, as long as your horse is strong enough to make it there. I expect you'll send him my regards.
we can wrap whenever you like but I already want more :'D
[ Jaskier smiles, gives Blake what he wants, and by reflex, he gets a grin in response. Blake's face is alight, dialed up a notch, and he feels a sense of slight, but genuine satisfaction with himself for having been able to drum up the information he needed. It's not his usual hard boiled detective work, but it's a step closer to recovery, and with just a few more minor successes, he might even find himself feeling whole and human and useful again.
Not that any of that will come out here between these two near-strangers. ]
Sure, I can do that. But only if we're gonna finish our drink.
[ Jaskier went to the trouble, after all, and it will take Blake some time to arrange, so there's no point running out the door. Still. The mines? Oof. Can't say Blake's looking forward to that. ]
I'm fine with that!! also same... I might peek into blake's inbox if that's ok!
[Oh, as if he doesn't know the smile of a man who thinks he's had. Annoying. Annoying moreso because it is so attractive on this particular man. Now Jaskier hopes Geralt does give him some shit when Blake finds him -- if he's skilled enough to make it across the desert.
He laughs.] You have no idea how correct the choice you just made is.
[Mostly because he would be very pissy about the idea that running off to go find Geralt is preferable to drinking with him, especially after all his flustering -- which Jaskier does not think was posturing. It's not as if Jaskier is a very secretive man himself. He would've won, given enough time.
But at least for the moment, Jaskier can enjoy his company.] Stay for a second if you have the time.
[ Blake agrees to stay, but skedaddles before Jaskier can talk him into a second drink, certain enough that all that charm would make its way through his poor defenses. It's a good time, though, and in parting, Blake agrees to stop by Jaskier's on his way out of town to accept messages for the Witcher and to carry along anything else that might be needed.
He arrives early, some time after the baker up the street from his place begins selling his breakfast wares. Blake's recent obsession with the guy's morning buns means that he's bought a pair to share with Jaskier (as well as one for Dean, who he's slated to meet fairly readily after he finishes here with the bard).
And thus he knocks, suspecting his appearance is battling with any number of late nights the other man has had in the name of celebrity. Does that give him reason to behave? Not quite. There's a schedule to keep and he'd already said he'd be by, so Jaskier will get a knock or two, and if it takes more than that, Blake is not beyond tossing stones at the second floor windows like some ruffian asking a co-conspirator to join the action. ]
[It is a simple fact of life that he has a revolving door of good company that moves in and out of it, but he cannot help but think this is unlikely to be the last time he will see Blake. Not if he's getting involved with Geralt.
That's the way their life is. They are entangled. It's a sort of strange, lovely thing, if you ask him. He can hardly balk at Geralt earning a few more... friends.
He's already visited Geralt once. He's agreed not to do more to avoid any further scrutiny on them. But he can make sure any other fellow trying to force their company on Geralt makes it in one piece.
The truly remarkable thing about the visit is the man had the manners to knock. Jaskier opens the door to his home wide, dressed in the ostentatious red robe that Alucard purchased him some time ago. Meant for lounging in, it's plenty rich to receive company, especially when he has no intentions in leaving the house for the day. He's finally got it to himself.]
Well, well. You kept your word, Ser Blake. Time to come in, or shall you be whisked away on a horse soon enough?
[ Blake is generally prompt and polite and upon being received by Jaskier — awake and amiable, in fact — he tips his head in something approaching a bow and then squints at the sky. ]
Ah, better not. It's temptin', don't get me wrong, but—
[ Dean's waiting for him and it's due to be a hell of a journey together. The more daylight they spend on the move, the better off they'll be. Still, Blake's not without suitable remorse and he holds out the wrapped pastry and offers an apologetic smile. ]
Here. So I'm not leavin' you empty handed. It's good stuff.
[He laughs at "tempting" because at least he's still got it, but he understands there is some benefit to setting out into the Badlands earlier. Before the heat truly settles down.
Oh! He claps his hands together, then takes the gif.t (A real gift. How rare.) With an inhale, he determines Blake must have rather good taste, as far as baked goods go.]
It smells lovely. Thank you. [He'd give him a kiss for it if he wasn't afraid to startle him. Or tempt him too much.] Let me return the favour. [Ah, their conversation about favours returns.] You'll need it for the trip.
[Not everyone can simply grow their own food as needed, after all. Jaskier dips into his home, but returns with a loaf of bread stuffed with cheese, still somehow as warm as if it had left the oven, the cheese inside still melted. And wrapped up: a very generous portion of black and blueberries.]
They won't rot no matter how long you keep them around. Courtesy of my magic. [He hands them over with a wink.] So be sure to treat your horse a bit for all that effort, hmm?
[ While it certainly wouldn't do to show up late and disheveled for his meeting with Dean, something tells Blake that all would be forgiven if he explained how hard up he's been. Unfortunately, with his timetable in place, all he can do is smile between Jaskier and the gifts, impressed (perhaps for the first time) by the utility of the magic in use. ]
Sounds like you're callin' me burden, and here we just met.
[ The cheekiness spreads into a full-on grin as Blake shuffles the cheese bread into the crook of his elbow in order to carefully unwrap the berries for a taste. Maybe he's lingering a bit, but he wants to be sure the efforts on the bard's part aren't passed by without his notice. Or without Jaskier noting his notice. ]
Any messages for Geralt?
[ He studies a blackberry, twisting it in his fingers, gently squeezing it as if testing for ripeness. It's probably the single most beautiful blackberry he's ever seen — almost too nice to eat. Is the compliment due to the gardener or the magician? Are they one in the same?
Meanwhile, Blake reasons Jaskier can send his own messages just like everyone else, but that's really not the point, is it? He could do the same and spare the trip altogether, but he really needs the outing and he thinks Geralt appreciates a personal touch even if he's not so (outwardly, willingly) personable himself. Looking at Jaskier, that much seems doubly true. ]
[Oh, Jaskier notices. He returns that grin with a smile of his own, already terribly fond of the little dimples that appear on the younger man's face. He's a bit of a sweetheart, isn't he? How on earth does Geralt put up with him?] You've plenty of time to prove me wrong.
[He leans against the doorway, looking as if he's actually thinkign of anything. Geralt hasn't been blocking his messages (for once), but he's already seen the cad. Knows he's working himself to sleep every night, and giving his food away to children. Utterly predictable.
In the end, he shrugs.] Tell him he's a horse's ass. He'll know what it means.
[It doesn't mean anything, but it's exceptionally funny to think someone would wander all the way to the mines to tell him it.]
[ Eventually Blake will be absolutely baffled to find out Jaskier's age, but for now he appears every bit as young and spry as need be, at least for the purposes of flirting around the point. It makes that grin turn all the more genuine when he tastes the blackberry and muses at the message. ]
I'll try not to crack the code on my way.
[ It's silly. That's what he thinks when they're together. And he doesn't hate it. Jaskier clearly takes pride in himself and his work, but he's not beyond all the trappings of a true entertainer. And if he can win over a guy like Geralt, then he's got to have a pretty good sense of humor and decent enough ethics. Friendship by association. ]
See you later, yeah? Thanks again.
[ And that's the bulk of it. Blake doesn't linger, head tipping gently before he's off to do as he planned. ]
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cointosser) wrote2021-04-12 08:58 pm
action; after Geralt goes to the gulag (I hope this is okay!!!)
Hey, I'm Blake—
[ Said without preamble, he looks as if he has more to add, but upon getting close enough to offer his hand in greeting, he can't help but stutter through an unhelpful stream of oncoming thoughts. ]
You're good— Music is— You're music is— [ ... ] —good.
[ An impressive start to this conversation, no doubt, which Blake promptly wishes he could take back. He seriously considers backing out altogether, but since he lead with his name, there's probably no living this down anyway. ]
absolutely!! I love blake ;; (maybe I stalk him and geralt a little)
Luckily, if they introduce themselves first, he's rather safe from misremembering.]
My music is brilliant. [He smiles back, taking Blake's hand and squeezing it -- he still doesn't fully appreciate handshakes -- then raising it to kiss the back. Why else would he be so nervous? He must be a fan.
Obviously.] But I'm glad such a handsome fellow thinks so. I imagine I don't need an introduction? [Not because of his ego -- just -- but because he introduces himself every performance. Still, his lips are curled, and they've already held hands.] Here to ask for a private performance? You needn't be so nervous, I promise. I am but a humble bard.
[He only starts with the humble line if he's already attempting to get into someone's bed.]
🥹🥹🥹 this made my morning
Yeah, I've heard the recordin's, seen a coupla shows, nothin'— nothin' too extreme.
[ If it's an attempt to dispel the impression of starry-eyed obsession, it might sound utterly insincere, but working in Viktor's shop and bumming around Cadens also leaves him privvy to plenty such things. ]
You gotta coupla minutes to spare? Promise I won't keep you from the next set.
heheh I'm so glad!!
And what a fascinating accent. He's never heard anything like that before... or maybe only once, now he thinks back -- an edge of something like that from the child he met in the black market. The nervous one. Definitely similar to Blake, but younger.]
My dear, I have as many minutes to spare as you may need. [He steps away only to place his lute back in her case, the strap going across his back. They may not go far, but he never leaves her behind. He may have separation anxieties after what happened to his last lute. (The only lute he's had since he was a teen.)] Come, I have a table reserved we can take up. Order whatever you'd like.
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A whatever he's having is the best Blake manages before recentering himself and clearing his throat. ]
Your music gets stuck in my head all the time. Catchy stuff.
[ Maybe he shouldn't have interrupted what is clearly this man's work. Or maybe he should get to the point and not waste any more of Jaskier's time. Either way, Blake feels crushed beneath the fascinating war between seeking quick answers and seeing where this goes. ]
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And he hardly minds spending coin for the company of pretty voices and even prettier faces. Jaskier props his head up on a hand, pointedly gazing at his company. Taking him in.]
Catchy. [He repeats the word, a small twitch in his lips. Catchy is for nursery rhymes and ditties that warn children to stay out of the woods at night. He smooths his smile back onto his face. He understands that this man is not particularly talented with his words -- or reigning in his anxiety -- and so Jaskier gives him a berth for what is intended to be a compliment.] I'm glad you think so. The sort that you hum to yourself going about your day, hmm? [His gaze moves from Blake's eyes down to his lips.]
Now, I don't mind if you came to talk to me about my music -- as you can imagine, it's my favorite topic -- but I have an inkling you may have come to me with greater purpose, Blake. [He smiles again, raising his eyes.] You hardly need flatter me so for a bit of warmth in my bed.
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What? No, I— That's not— what I was here for—
[ (Although...)
Blake clears his throat and this time there is no hiding his discomfort, although it's unlike the rest: He laughs, maybe a little charmed by the direct approach, and scrubs at his nape like a man caught. He really wouldn't mind one bit under normal circumstances (far from it), but it's not the reason he came. ]
Geralt. You seen him 'round lately?
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Still, Jaskier leans back with a sigh, propping his boots up on an empty chair.]
Of course. [His disappointment is immeasurable, and his day is ruined. This is hardly the first time he was approached because someone was looking for Geralt. It's not as if he's made a secret of their relationship, and it's quite obvious considering he sings songs about the man.
It also doesn't mean he isn't suspicious; a habit that stems from the Continent more than Abraxas itself, though it feels more than mere coincidence he's being asked right after Geralt's gone.] I see him rather often. [Which doesn't exactly answer the question.] Why are you looking for him? I hope you aren't here to hire him. For one, I'm not his manager, and two, he isn't here.
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"It's nothin' like that. Not this time," he says, tone lightening a hair as if to prove he's no threat at all. And truly, even with training, he'd very much fall short when faced against Geralt. Luckily, they don't really find themselves at odds (so far). "Just owe him a coupla favors and I had some ideas I wanted to run past him."
Blake squints a hair, considering, before finally admitting his stance with a vague gesture in Jaskier's direction. "I know you two're—" Friends? Companions? Blake doesn't fish for more, but he suspects if he's too off the mark he'll be corrected. "So that's why I asked. Maybe not the best way to meet a celebrity like you."
What's this? A drink to drown his sharpening tongue? Blake eagerly tucks in, if only to shut himself up. He's here for a reason, after all, and it doesn't do to drag out what appears to be growing misery on his companion's part.
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Favors. Ideas. They're not very Geralt-y things. And Blake's found a very unfortunate time to ask him about Geralt; while normally he'd only be a modicum bothered, now the questioning feels outright suspicious. With Geralt being imprisoned and working in the mines for what he did, and refusing to tell the Free Cities what, exactly, he did --
Why, this could be a Free Cities agent right at his doorstep! How quaint. Usually people torture him when they want things from him.]
Best friends. [He pointedly offers, once again drawing up to prop his head on his hand, fingers tapping his cheek as he smiles at Blake, barely blinking as the drinks hit the table.] Oh, I hardly mind, don't worry. [He's an expert at picking himself up again when he needs to, because now he's... curious.] Well, I hate to tell you he's currently out of the city. If you need a message passed along to him, I'll be happy to help.
[Which is certainly opposite to his not his manager line. He draws a finger around the lip of his drink.] Perhaps you can tell me these favours you owe him. The idea that anyone should think they owe Geralt anything is very... fascinating.
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Sorry, why's that fascinatin'? You don't owe him favors?
[ It's perhaps the first time Blake's managed to get a grip on himself during this conversation and he's letting a thin amount of amusement seep into his demeanor. He hasn't heard all that much about Geralt besides what's been commonly shared, but in the short time they'd spent together, he'd never gotten the feeling that he shouldn't treat the guy any different from anyone else. ]
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Or Jaskier is letting suspicion win over the idea that Blake simply has interesting thoughts.
Well, that's the worst that could happen?]
Geralt and I don't operate on that sort of level. We're beyond something as pedestrian as favours. [Yes, it's true that Geralt's saved his life... more than once. Technically. But also technically, he would not have been in those situations where he almost died if Geralt also hadn't been there. So it sort of evens out when you think about it.
And that is to go without saying that Geralt would be dead and/or destitute without Jaskier's insistence that he writes songs of the Witcher's hunts. He's never been thanked for it, but it is a fact Jaskier knows well.] Do you really consider friendship an endless dance of who owes whom what? That's a bit too transaction-y if you ask me.
[Is that a word? He's making it a word right now.]
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It's arguably compassion that seems to be at the root of their current companionship — between the child in the mine and the subsequent trip into the Featherhive together, what else could it be? — not that Blake wants to say as much. ]
Nah, it's not like that. You kiddin'? Feel like that guy wouldn't ask a favor to save his life, anyway. Mostly I had some stuff I wanted to discuss 'bout the mines, maybe have a drink, bring a snack from the incredible baker up the street from my place.
[ The tension that begins to leave him is being replaced with a sense of understanding. Whatever it is between Jaskier and Geralt, it feels deep. No wonder the guy's giving Blake a hard time. ]
S'pose I'd owe you a favor if you told me where he's holed up, but since you don't believe in those...
[ He shrugs, barely holding back the essence of a shit-eating grin. ]
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And that's growth. Even in an hundred and seventeen or whatever year old Witcher.]
Not from most people, to be sure. Geralt has always carried his own burdens, even to his own detriment. [That's simply the truth. It was almost nearly always to his own detriment, actually.
He snorts, but he does smile. Blake has observed him enough -- or bothered enough -- to discover the core of the Witcher. It's not rare, exactly, not in this world... but it is enough of an effort to make an impact on Jaskier. Either way, he hardly thinks this Blake is a threat to Geralt. The only thing to use against him now is information. It would be a waste, pretending he didn't know where he was if he was, indeed, sent by the Portham Hall authorities.
And maybe Jaskier finds him amusing, and his accent adorable. It's not the hardest to appeal to his fancies when they're whimisical, and his mood mercurial.] Don't think I don't know what you're doing. [But it is working.] Even if I did believe in them, I don't need your favours. [He drums his fingers against his cheek. Still, he's handsome, and he feels genuine enough.] If you know about the mines, then I suspect you can find Geralt quite well indeed, as long as your horse is strong enough to make it there. I expect you'll send him my regards.
we can wrap whenever you like but I already want more :'D
Not that any of that will come out here between these two near-strangers. ]
Sure, I can do that. But only if we're gonna finish our drink.
[ Jaskier went to the trouble, after all, and it will take Blake some time to arrange, so there's no point running out the door. Still. The mines? Oof. Can't say Blake's looking forward to that. ]
I'm fine with that!! also same... I might peek into blake's inbox if that's ok!
He laughs.] You have no idea how correct the choice you just made is.
[Mostly because he would be very pissy about the idea that running off to go find Geralt is preferable to drinking with him, especially after all his flustering -- which Jaskier does not think was posturing. It's not as if Jaskier is a very secretive man himself. He would've won, given enough time.
But at least for the moment, Jaskier can enjoy his company.] Stay for a second if you have the time.
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He arrives early, some time after the baker up the street from his place begins selling his breakfast wares. Blake's recent obsession with the guy's morning buns means that he's bought a pair to share with Jaskier (as well as one for Dean, who he's slated to meet fairly readily after he finishes here with the bard).
And thus he knocks, suspecting his appearance is battling with any number of late nights the other man has had in the name of celebrity. Does that give him reason to behave? Not quite. There's a schedule to keep and he'd already said he'd be by, so Jaskier will get a knock or two, and if it takes more than that, Blake is not beyond tossing stones at the second floor windows like some ruffian asking a co-conspirator to join the action. ]
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That's the way their life is. They are entangled. It's a sort of strange, lovely thing, if you ask him. He can hardly balk at Geralt earning a few more... friends.
He's already visited Geralt once. He's agreed not to do more to avoid any further scrutiny on them. But he can make sure any other fellow trying to force their company on Geralt makes it in one piece.
The truly remarkable thing about the visit is the man had the manners to knock. Jaskier opens the door to his home wide, dressed in the ostentatious red robe that Alucard purchased him some time ago. Meant for lounging in, it's plenty rich to receive company, especially when he has no intentions in leaving the house for the day. He's finally got it to himself.]
Well, well. You kept your word, Ser Blake. Time to come in, or shall you be whisked away on a horse soon enough?
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Ah, better not. It's temptin', don't get me wrong, but—
[ Dean's waiting for him and it's due to be a hell of a journey together. The more daylight they spend on the move, the better off they'll be. Still, Blake's not without suitable remorse and he holds out the wrapped pastry and offers an apologetic smile. ]
Here. So I'm not leavin' you empty handed. It's good stuff.
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Oh! He claps his hands together, then takes the gif.t (A real gift. How rare.) With an inhale, he determines Blake must have rather good taste, as far as baked goods go.]
It smells lovely. Thank you. [He'd give him a kiss for it if he wasn't afraid to startle him. Or tempt him too much.] Let me return the favour. [Ah, their conversation about favours returns.] You'll need it for the trip.
[Not everyone can simply grow their own food as needed, after all. Jaskier dips into his home, but returns with a loaf of bread stuffed with cheese, still somehow as warm as if it had left the oven, the cheese inside still melted. And wrapped up: a very generous portion of black and blueberries.]
They won't rot no matter how long you keep them around. Courtesy of my magic. [He hands them over with a wink.] So be sure to treat your horse a bit for all that effort, hmm?
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Sounds like you're callin' me burden, and here we just met.
[ The cheekiness spreads into a full-on grin as Blake shuffles the cheese bread into the crook of his elbow in order to carefully unwrap the berries for a taste. Maybe he's lingering a bit, but he wants to be sure the efforts on the bard's part aren't passed by without his notice. Or without Jaskier noting his notice. ]
Any messages for Geralt?
[ He studies a blackberry, twisting it in his fingers, gently squeezing it as if testing for ripeness. It's probably the single most beautiful blackberry he's ever seen — almost too nice to eat. Is the compliment due to the gardener or the magician? Are they one in the same?
Meanwhile, Blake reasons Jaskier can send his own messages just like everyone else, but that's really not the point, is it? He could do the same and spare the trip altogether, but he really needs the outing and he thinks Geralt appreciates a personal touch even if he's not so (outwardly, willingly) personable himself. Looking at Jaskier, that much seems doubly true. ]
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[He leans against the doorway, looking as if he's actually thinkign of anything. Geralt hasn't been blocking his messages (for once), but he's already seen the cad. Knows he's working himself to sleep every night, and giving his food away to children. Utterly predictable.
In the end, he shrugs.] Tell him he's a horse's ass. He'll know what it means.
[It doesn't mean anything, but it's exceptionally funny to think someone would wander all the way to the mines to tell him it.]
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I'll try not to crack the code on my way.
[ It's silly. That's what he thinks when they're together. And he doesn't hate it. Jaskier clearly takes pride in himself and his work, but he's not beyond all the trappings of a true entertainer. And if he can win over a guy like Geralt, then he's got to have a pretty good sense of humor and decent enough ethics. Friendship by association. ]
See you later, yeah? Thanks again.
[ And that's the bulk of it. Blake doesn't linger, head tipping gently before he's off to do as he planned. ]