Geralt of Rivia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lovelybottom) wrote2020-12-22 09:17 pm
lovelybottom) wrote2020-12-22 09:17 pm
IC Inbox - VR
Hm.
[Silence. In the background, a faint, admonishing Geralt! can be heard.]
Call the bard.
[ VOICE | VIDEO | TEXT | RANDOM ACTION ]
Hm.
[Silence. In the background, a faint, admonishing Geralt! can be heard.]
Call the bard.
[ VOICE | VIDEO | TEXT | RANDOM ACTION ]
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But alright, he still has a chance to save this. Geralt hasn't told him to fuck off or call the idea stupid. Time to counter-attack! Here comes Jaskier with hands-on-his-waist-like-a-housewife and that tilt of his head that says Geralt is being silly.]
In case you haven't noticed, dear witcher, I don't know the local dances either. I've been improvising and learning on the spot, because unlike certain someone, I'm not afraid of trying out new things. Besides- [He raises a hand that draws a circle in the air to indicate the dance floor.] -there isn't much for you to learn this time, a glance will tell you all you need: sway from side to side, repeat until the end of the song. So let's try this again, shall we?
[With a huge grin on his face, he bows and offers a bent arm as he would do with a maiden.]
Will you do me the honor of this dance?
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[Odd, then, that Jaskier would ask him for a dance. They are only newly friends again, after all. But the bard has always taken almost personal offense at Geralt's wallflower tendencies, so perhaps he has merely spotted an opening to break him from those habits and aims to take advantage, regardless of the appropriateness of the song. The fact that it's slow is merely coincidence.]
[And a possibly unfortunate stipulation of Jaskier's continued travel with him is that he has to be nice to him. No telling him to fuck off, even if he's standing there and offering his arm to Geralt like he's a debutante.]
One dance.
[It's a reluctant concession. Geralt stands, giving the bard a look as he takes the offered arm, mouth twisting a little sourly.]
Shouldn't I be leading?
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That's a yes.
Jaskier can only stare in shock for a couple of seconds, not believing what he's hearing. Sure, he's been all cocky with his not taking no for an answer attitude, but having Geralt accepting to dance with him actually happening is a whole different deal.
The way his heart beats in glee is a song that deserves to be recorded.
Geralt taking his arm helps him snap out of it, and Jaskier smiles so brightly he could light up the entire room just by himself. He's extra aware of the way they're currently touching, which sounds kinda silly, considering all the nursing and bathing he's done for the witcher in the past. But this is different, this is Geralt accepting to be treated with the fine manners he deserves - the gesture itself may be small, but the meaning behind it is huge.
...but of course Geralt isn't happy with being the "wooed lady" in this situation. Jaskier laughs.]
True to be told, I wouldn't know how to decide that when it's two men dancing together. [Jaskier looks around the dance floor when they make it there, trying to get a clue. Mmh.] I suppose for now, we can make use of those couple of inches you have on me. Come here.
[Jaskier steps in front of Geralt and grabs his hands to put them on his waist, which sends a shiver down his spine. Damn it, this shouldn't be different from all those times Geralt has thrown him over his shoulder to get him away from a fight! If anything, there's even less touching! His own hands end up those lovely broad shoulders and Jaskier admits to himself that he's accepted to let Geralt lead because he knows it would do wonders for the witcher's comfort in a strange situation, but also because he simply likes being embraced (or whatever this is) by a big burly man.
This burly man in particular, to be precise.
He's being held.
Awkwardly, but still softly.
By Geralt.
Coming to this realm truly has been a blessing.
They sway from side to side and while Jaskier isn't sure he could call this dancing, it's still nice. Extremely nice. He notices some girls putting their heads on their boyfriends' chests and envy claws at his chest, so he decides not to let that sour the moment and sticks to looking at Geralt while they dance. It's not like it's a hardship, especially when Geralt is looking finer than usual thanks to Jaskier's grooming hand.]
I've always wondered what spending winter with you would be like. [He comments with an amused expression.] I don't think this was included even in my boldest daydreaming.
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[Jaskier leads him out to the dance floor and puts his hands into the appropriate positions-- or, at least, the appropriate positions for this kind of dancing. It would be scandalous even in the most lenient and progressive courts to have his hands like this, resting on Jaskier's waist. If there had been a woman in his place, Geralt might have been able to span the whole width of her middle with his palms-- as it is, Jaskier's more sturdily built than that. Solid. All of those years of walking alongside a witcher has done him some good, apparently.]
[The bard's arms drape over his shoulders. The dance is a slow, swaying thing that barely has steps; they're mostly staying in place. Years of learning fighting maneuvers and proper footwork has made Geralt adept at minding where he puts his feet, so Jaskier at least has little to worry about when it comes to the welfare of his toes.]
Hm. [Dancing was never a part of any of Geralt's winters. Certainly not at Kaer Morhen, even when roaring drunk. Though it's not as though there's any music at the keep, anyway, so what would they be dancing to?] Witchers don't dance, regardless of the season. You had plenty of opportunities for merriment in Oxenfurt, anyway, if that's what you were looking for.
[Even if Geralt had invited the bard to Kaer Morhen-- which isn't to say that he hadn't thought about it a few times in their long acquaintance-- Jaskier would never have said yes. Kaer Morhen is a cold, lonesome place deep in the mountains, cut off from any human comforts. He would have been bored in a few days' time even if he made it up the long trek to the keep, and then what would he have done? Once the snows hit, he'd be trapped there with a bunch of witchers. It was better to just not even ask than have to suffer through the bard's attempts at kindly rejecting him.]
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He can't help snorting and shaking his head when Geralt manages, once again, to spin his answer into something... well, not precisely negative this time around, but definitely shying away from the compliment and positivity Jaskier just pointed out.]
Indeed, my winters were full of merriment when spent in Oxenfurt. [He lowers a hand to playfully smack Geralt on his
mighty titchest.] But you weren't there, you big oaf, and that's the point I was trying to make. I wasn't talking about winters spent dancing, I was talking about winters with you. In your company. Which I enjoy.[And right now, he's feeling rather merry, to use the word Geralt chose. Fine wine and good food in his belly, away from the shittiness of their world, content and cozy in the arms of his witcher, surrounded by soft music and affectionate couples... it's his good mood that raises his hand from Geralt's chest and dares to poke his nose.]
When will you finally accept that, dear witcher?
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[The general group of swaying dancers has shifted a little, and Geralt moves them along with the crowd to maintain the appropriate distance between couples. The bard pokes his nose, which briefly wrinkles in response-- the same sort of vaguely offended response that cats make when you touch their noses. Geralt frowns.]
You wouldn't have my company much at all if I had to stay on the Path through winter. Oxenfurt never has enough contracts for me to begin with, and certainly not enough for the whole season.
[And staying in a city like Oxenfurt all winter-- well, it would be nearly unbearable, he thinks. So many people like Jaskier, all full of questions and curiosity for someone like a witcher. He's only passed through there a few times since making the bard's acquaintance, and the more the years have passed, the less wary the citizens of that city seem to become. It doesn't help him much with contracts-- it doesn't matter how little they fear him if they don't have any monsters that need killing-- but it does make them annoyingly persistent in their sociability. He's had people approach him when he's sitting in dark corners of taverns, just trying to eat his fucking dinner in peace. Who did they think they were, Jaskier?]
You entertain yourself just fine without me. You told me about it every spring.
[Jaskier always had endless stories of the things he got up to during winter, from the joyful nights playing in taverns to his most scandalous affairs to the horrible things his students would turn into him for their writing assignments. It was good to hear about all the ways that the bard enjoyed himself during those bleak months, and helped solidify Geralt's decision to leave him in Oxenfurt when he made the trek northward in autumn.]
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Anything positive, to be fair.
And there he goes again, spinning what he's said into something gloomy. Geralt's mental gymnastics should have a song of their own, because that's how epic they are. Jaskier huffs and even pouts.]
It's not about entertainment or being bored! It's about sharing winter and the holidays with you! Didn't you hear a word I say about your company?
[He probably did and ignored it, as he does with many things Jaskier constantly must remind him. Like take better care of yourself, you deserver better and just because you can get hurt doesn't mean you should. What does he have to do to get through this oaf's thick head? After twenty-two years?
His hand falls on Geralt's chest again to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, the tip of his tongue peeking it as it always does when he's composing or thinking too hard. He supposes a bit of confessing is in order, this stubborn witcher better appreciates it.]
If we were to spend winter together, it wouldn't be on the Path, you fool. [His tone is scolding but also fond. And his eyes... they don't meet Geralt's, they stay on the buttons. Thank the gods this dance is very simple and he doesn't need to pay extra attention to his feet - he can lean in against Geralt, safe in his arms, and find comfort in his presence while he confesses his daydreams.] Whenever I imagined us wintering together, it would be in Oxenfurt. Food and bed would be free, and coin would come from my teaching, as it always does when I winter there. I would just sneak you into my quarters! So no need for contracts. It would be the vacation you need. You could spend all your time in the library correcting monster books, or riding Roach on the beach, or fishing, or even simply napping in a bath that you'd reheat with Igni. [His voice has become incredibly soft as he describes his fantasy - this isn't Jaskier the storyteller, this is the guy that said just trying to find what pleases me.] And when I was done with my classes, I could introduce you to the best seafood, and the Gwent shop that makes custom cards, and let's be honest, Madam Maxine's brothel. [He smirks to show he's teasing - or is he?] Oxenfurt would still be incredibly crowded for your taste, I know you hate it there. And while I selfishly would want you the whole winter with me, I don't know if I could keep you away from your brothers. I have you the rest of the year, after all, and them you only get to see in winter. You're a different man when you return from the keep - from your home.
[Because no matter how many times Geralt says he doesn't need people, the effect seeing his family (yes, family, don't try to deny it!) has on him is incredibly obvious. Jaskier has always wished he could have that effect on the witcher as well and--
I walked the Path for six fucking decades before you and never brought anyone along. Just you.
A little smile appears on his face, but he still sighs.] And since you won't take me to Kaer Morhen, daydreaming is all I had. So yes, Geralt, excuse me for thinking this sweet moment right now exceeds any expectations of a winter with you I could've ever had.
[It's not a fair comparison, considering they're on a whole different bloody realm, but let's ignore that part.]
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[He paints a pretty little fantasy of what he'd like a winter together to be-- free room and board from the University, the two of them sharing Jaskier's quarters; days spent in the library with bestiaries, or riding Roach, or at leisure by the river. Good food and gwent and good company, either from the bard or from the many whorehouses that Jaskier knows. He makes it sound as though being in the company of a Witcher would be a good thing, not disastrous for his reputation. That it would be selfish to keep him, as though a Witcher is a thing to keep.]
[And his brothers. What will happen when winter comes in their realm, and he doesn't go up the mountain or send word? They'll think the worst has happened to him.]
Kaer Morhen wouldn't be to your taste, bard, no more than Oxenfurt is mine. [He could endure Oxenfurt, of course, if necessary. But it wouldn't be a place that he feels comfortable in, or secure, not in the same way that he does in Kaer Morhen's halls.] You'd be bored of it within a week. A whole season might kill you from boredom. So, for you, I suppose this is better than any winter you could've spent in Kaedwen.
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Surely he's reading too much into this, right? He can't possibly mean... No fucking way.]
WHAT!
[Jaskier's high pitch echoes in the dance floor, earning him a few looks from the other couples (wait, other?). He smiles at them charmingly and tells them sorry, sorry before turning to Geralt again, glaring at the witcher as if he's just broken his lute.]
You dunderheaded witcher! [He hisses as he leans in, both hands resting on Geralt's chest now for support. Their faces are so close to each other their noses are almost touching, and if it wasn't for the frustration currently fueling him, Jaskier would find this situation very awkward. Instead, this is his way to scold Geral while still getting to dance with him, because he's a fool that gets angry at his witcher but will always want his affection anyway.] What makes you think I'd hate Kaer Morhen? That place is a piece of history that has been frozen in time! And your brothers would be there, too, so I could ask them for stories! Is THIS why you've never invited me? Unbelievable!
[His whole speech is hissed, because he doesn't want to cause a scene. Which is very unlike Jaskier, because he loves causing scenes, but again: can't risk the chance to miss this dance.]
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[Jaskier's hands press against his chest, using it for support as he leans in. They're of a height, so he doesn't have far to go before they're nearly nose-to-nose, and the witcher is sturdy enough to take the additional weight. It slows the 'dance', though it really can barely be called as such when all they do is sway.]
Jaskier, you can't even stay in the same bed for an entire season. [It isn't an unkind accusation-- just a statement of fact. Jaskier's attention has never been a steady thing, flitting from one interest to the next.] You wouldn't last a week after the snows hit before you'd be begging one of us to take you down the mountain. You'd have nothing to do and no adoring audiences to play for.
[And-- though he does not say it-- the selfish thing would be to keep the bard for the whole winter, when he already spends most of the rest of the year with him, too. As the bard enjoys reminding him, he has plenty of friends scattered across the Continent, and the winter months are the few that he has the chance to go and see them. To sing duets with that troubaritz friend of his in taverns, find out the latest gossip, do all the things that he can't do when he's following around a witcher. Who's he to deny him that, all in the name of a desire that he shouldn't even have in the first place?]
There isn't that much history left, unless you're fond of looking at crumbling architecture. Half of the library's rotting. [The structural work takes up most of their time, and even when they have it, none of them specialized in book binding or repair.] You wouldn't be able to sing about the keep, either, even if there was something worth singing about.
[Part of the reason that they can remain in Kaer Morhen is because of the fact that people think that it's abandoned. They had one pogrom already-- they don't need to invite another because of a few ballads.]
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And part of him knows he shouldn't be mad at Geralt, because he understands the logic he's going for - it's true, Jaskier is on a constant search for new experiences. But there's also the fact he has exceptions, and it hurts a bit that the witcher can't still see that after two decades. Hasn't his loyalty been proven already?]
A week? We've spent many a week camping in the forest with nothing but trees and grass as company! [How does that not count as "you'd have nothing to do and no adoring audiences to play for"? Jaskier is feeling so frustrated right now.] How is it that you still can't see?
[He sighs and looks down, a hand moving to pluck at the buttons again.]
Is this why you've never invited me? Because you think I wouldn't stand a whole season surrounded by only witchers? Have you learned nothing about what truly pleases me after so many years traveling together?
[He isn't sure what this says about their friendship, really, and he's afraid of what he may find if he analyzes it too closely. Then again, it could be simply blamed on Geralt being Geralt and keeping every person and every want at an arm's length.
Let's go to the coast. Get away for a while.
Coast, keep, it matters not. How more clear can he be?]
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[His fingers fiddle with the buttons on Geralt's shirt. Fidgeting is a nervous little habit that he's had since he was a teenager, one of the few tells that Geralt has now that don't rely on his witcher senses.]
You've told me that Oxenfurt is your home. [Since Lettenhove, apparently, isn't. Geralt doesn't know the full story of why Jaskier abandoned the place, but if he wants him to know, the witcher doesn't doubt that he'll tell him. And if he never wants to tell, well. Men are allowed to have their secrets.] You wouldn't keep me from mine, and I won't keep you from yours.
[Again-- not that he thinks that Jaskier would accept. It's easy to say that he would want to go to the keep when they're here and Kaer Morhen is a universe away, but if it came down to it? If they were actually on the road again, standing at the crossroads between Oxenfurt and Novigrad, and Geralt asked him to go north with him, would he really be able to say no to the pleasures of his alma mater, the steady income, the luxury of his comfortable apartments?]
[Just trying to work out what pleases me, he had said on the mountain.]
Did you? [It feels like a heavy question, especially for how close they are right now. Jaskier's head is tipped downwards, and Geralt has to turn his own a little, lest he end up with his nose in the bard's hair. He can still smell the fragrant floral soaps and oils that he used when he bathed, the scent far more pleasant without his witcher senses.] Work out what pleases you.
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Besides, who says you can only have one home? Or that home must be a place? A person can be home, too.
He should tell Geralt that, but the witcher surprises him with one hell of a heavy question. Bollocks. And an enhanced nose that tells him how others are feeling would be handy right now, because Jaskier... well...
Falls unusually silent.
His feet are still dancing, of course, and his fingers don't leave Geralt's shirt buttons - there goes the tip of his tongue peeking out as well. But not a word, that lost in thought he is.
The dragon hunt... it had been a shitshow by itself, nobody can disagree on that, but Jaskier had already entered it feeling a bit off-center. His confidence is as true as it comes, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have doubts every now and then, he's only human after all. And he had been having a couple of rough days with Geralt before the hunt started - the witcher's comment about finding a worthy travel companion just being the first step of going from rough to fucking hell thanks to said hunt.
If I were a man of more merit, if I were a man of resolve, I’d leave you behind, get my fair peace of mind from a bottle of grain alcohol.
The original lyrics of Her Sweet Kiss are still there on his notebook, a constant reminder of what he was feeling that day - a day that feels like it happened ages ago now. Just trying to work out what pleases me, he had said on the mountain, as if he hadn't known the answer. It just happened that the answer wasn't entirely working for him, something Geralt proved right when he told him to fuck off for good shortly after.
But the witcher is trying now. He truly is doing his best to make Jaskier's private answer work for both of their sakes. They're fucking dancing, for fuck's sake! If that isn't a sign, what is it?
Yet Jaskier hesitates to reply, and he can swear his heart is about to explode with how strong it's feeling this mess of emotions.
You. You are what pleases me.
Their friendship has just become a thing again - and even if that wasn't the case, expressing his answer like that would still be too fucking much. He's not about to scare Geralt off after twenty-two fucking years and a chance to start over in another realm without any of the ties that could bother them at home has been dropped on their laps.
Jaskier is a master of the words... so words he uses in his favor.]
Being your traveling companion. [He finally confesses in what is almost a whisper.] That's what pleases me.
[Honest enough without revealing too much, he hopes.]
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[Some strange feeling sits right behind his breastbone, burning there. Anticipation? That makes little sense. He has little investment in whatever most pleases Jaskier, whether it's women or wine or writing poetry that wins him awards at festivals. Whatever most pleases Jaskier is fine, as that's his decision and his desires, and as a good friend, Geralt should help him achieve that. Especially since, as a witcher, Geralt has no real wants of his own, and thus the question of what pleases you is a moot one at best.]
[He didn't expect that Jaskier's answer would involve him. He says it so softly that Geralt almost doesn't catch it, but the music is winding down enough that the whisper is still just audible.]
You have it, for as long as you like. [Until, anyway, he decides that someone else is what pleases him.]
[The song comes to its end and the band, apparently, needs to take a break. Geralt removes his hands from the bard's waist and steps back, out of the close quarters that this dance had put them in.]
Your one dance.
[He has fulfilled his promise. And, since everyone else is settling back into their seats, it's a good excuse for them to do the same. There's a drink waiting at the table with Geralt's name on it, anyway, and he feels like he needs it after how... fraught the past few minutes have been.]
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It means a lot to hear that, especially after the mess in the mountain. Sure, they did work things out when they arrived here, but it was mostly Jaskier having to do the pushing for words, as always. This time, however... this time Geralt just says it unprompted, in a context he probably isn't truly comfortable in. Whatever you want, he had said, and it looks like he fucking means it.
Many a novel Jaskier has read about special (miraculous even!) things happening in Yule. Getting a dance and an unprompted promise from Geralt surely counts as such - at least his heart thinks so, considering the way it gets stuck in his throat as he stares at Geralt in shock...
And just like that, it's over. Your one dance, Geralt calls it. The most important dance in my fucking life, Jaskier would prefer. The witcher is stepping back and Jaskier could swear he already feels colder, but that's probably his feelings talking. Smiling wide enough to almost split his face, he bends an arm over his stomach and bows for his friend, going for playful to hide the emotional mess he is inside.]
Thank you, good sir.
[They make it back to their table and it turns out, the band is choosing this moment to take their break because it's time for the countdown. Merry Christmas the entire crowd cries out when they make it to zero, and Jaskier raises his glass to tap it against Geralt's.]
Blessed be your Yule, old friend. [He sips his wine before talking again.] I have something for you.
[He retrieves his bag from under the chair and hands Geralt a simple package - Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn't stop to appreciate elaborated wrapping, but he had to do something, just a plastic bag wouldn't do. So simple brown paper, a rope and a little plant it is. Inside, Geralt will find two things: a big, black scarf with the wolf logo from his medallion painted on in white, and a small box containing sound-canceling earbuds.]
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[There is still wine at their table when they return to it, and Geralt is glad to have a drink in his hand again. They're back in their seats in time for celebrations to begin, and Geralt lets the bard tap their glasses together with a little crystalline ping. Then he bends and reaches down underneath his chair for the packages that he'd brought with him, which he reveals are presents for Geralt.]
I don't need anything. [His protests, of course, fall on deaf ears, because regardless of whether or not Geralt needs something, Jaskier got him a gift anyway. It's simply wrapped, which he prefers even if he knows that Jaskier would have rather been elaborate about it, and Geralt carefully pulls off the brown paper so as not to make a mess. He touches the soft black fabric of the scarf, taking it out of the box enough to see the full image of the wolf medallion blazoned across it. It's an accurate recreation-- Jaskier must have brought a picture of it to whomever made the scarf. With it is another little box, this one containing an electronic device. Noise cancelling, it says, something that Jaskier must have gone looking for specifically. They are very... considerate gifts. Thoughtful.]
...Thank you. [Geralt's stomach feels strange; there might be something off about the wine.] I didn't bring yours with me. It's still back in the room.
[Because though he didn't expect anything from Jaskier, he had gotten something for the bard. But it's a practical gift, so that's all right.]
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He can feel the warmth he lost after the dance returning to his chest when Geralt says thank you and he opens his mouth to say you're welcome... but then the witcher adds that little bit at the end, and Jaskier's mouth stays open, staring at his friend as he had grown a second head.]
...you got me a gift? [Suddenly, a dramatic gasp.] YOU GOT ME A GIFT! [Jaskier laughs with joy, his expression so bright it could light up the entire Dark Cave they visited a couple of days ago.] Oh, I want to see it! I need to see it! [He grabs his glass and downs the rest of the wine in one go.] Finish your drink, I'll pay.
[And just like that he's off to find a waiter, running at a speed gained from years of running away from angry fathers and cuckold husbands. When their bill is taken care of, Jaskier wastes no time in grabbing Geralt by the arm and dragging him back to their inn room, where he doesn't even take off his shoes or cloak. Too excited for that!]
Where is it, where is it! [He exclaims as he flutters around Geralt like a hummingbird.] I want to see my gift!
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[Before Geralt can protest, he bolts the rest of his wine and is gone, off to find the waiter to settle their bill. He says he'll pay for it, so Geralt really can't complain that much, except for the fact that he has to finish his own drink quickly rather than enjoy it. Wasn't Jaskier the one always telling him to savor good food and fine wine?]
[Once the bill was taken care of, Jaskier grabbed him by the arm and dragged him off, with barely enough time to put the earbuds in his pocket and wrap the scarf around his neck.]
Jaskier--
[Geralt frowns at the bard's impatience, even when they're back in the room. He's like a child on Yule, too excited at the prospect of gifts to settle down. He grabs the bard by the shoulders and pushes, making him sit down on the edge of the bed just to get him to stop pacing around.]
Wait. [Then he kneels down on the other side of the bed, reaching under it to get the package that he'd hidden under there, underneath his bedroll and behind a pair of his boots. The woman had the store had offered to wrap it for him once she was told that it was a gift, and he had let her. What colors does he like, she'd asked him, and all Geralt could think of was the blue of Jaskier's eyes and the gold doublets he favored for royal banquets, so the fucking present's wrapped up in blue paper with gold ribbon. It's not seasonal colors, apparently, but fuck it.]
Here. [He drops the package into Jaskier's arms a bit unceremoniously.]
[Underneath the paper and ribbon is a ukelele case, one with a hard outer shell that he was assured would be sufficient for keeping the weather out. And on the inside, the interior is plush blue velvet and dense padding to protect the instrument, so Jaskier wouldn't have to worry about it getting damaged if it got knocked around a bit. A good case to take on the road, and one that was... not exactly within Geralt's budget, but he had worked things out with the seller. He would still have to pick up a few more odd jobs to make up the rest and have some money to live on, but it was fine. Jaskier had done the same for him when his armor was in dire need of repairs, after all.]
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Wait, Geralt says, and Jaskier pouts but does as asked anyway, because he knows Geralt well - he's sure the witcher would absolutely cancel any gift-giving if he didn't behave. And while the package is being dropped without any Yule wishes or gentleness, really, Jaskier doesn't care. First, because this is Geralt, so he doesn't expect any "ceremony" from him in the first place.
And second (and most importantly)... because these are his bloody colors. They're not Yule colors, but who cares? They're Jaskier's. Geralt remembered. By the gods, he's already smiling like an idiot and he hasn't opened it yet (although judging by the shape? he can already take a guess).
Usually he would be ripping the wrapping off in freaking seconds, but he's feeling so touched by the color choice and the gesture in general that he first allows his fingers to stroke the paper a couple of time before finally opening it by actually carefully pulling the tape. For someone that was desperate to get his gift mere seconds ago, this sure counts as patience.
As soon as the case makes its appearance, blue eyes widen as he gasps.]
Geralt... [Calloused fingers start gently stroking again, first the outer shell, then the gorgeous and very soft blue velvet inside. He can't believe what he's seeing! The kind of gift that says Jaskier all over it. It's practical, it's thoughtful, it's...] It's perfect.
[Smiling from ear to ear and feeling his heart beat way too fast to be mere excitement, Jaskier gently puts down the case on the bed, then looks at Geralt and after a moment of hesitation where he keeps the tip of his tongue peeking out...
He runs up to Geralt and hugs him with as much strength as he can manage.]
I love it. Thank you, old friend.
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[The bard opens it and marvels for a moment at the soft velvet interior. It's a fine fabric in a shade of blue that Geralt couldn't have found back home outside of some master dye-maker, which no doubt contributes to the price of the case. But it's Jaskier's color, those particular blue shades that he always says brings out his eyes. When there was a case in the shop that had already been lined with it, it had seemed like the obvious choice.]
[In gratitude, Jaskier throws his arms around the witcher, and Geralt stands there for a moment with his hands held away from his body, unsure of how to proceed. He rarely experiences this kind of open affection, even from Jaskier, who usually limits his contact to touching him with his hands, not his... whole body. After a long and awkward moment, Geralt pats the bard on the back, returning his gesture, albeit uncomfortably.]
I was told that it would be suitable for travel, even in poor weather. [He lets go of the bard once Jaskier has decided that the designated acceptable hugging time is up. Geralt is unsure of how long this kind of contact is supposed to go on between friends-- even with his brothers, their contact is generally limited to clasping each other's arms manfully, or perhaps a brief arm around the shoulders.] You'd said that the damp would ruin your lute, so I assumed it would be the same for other stringed instruments.
and that's a wrap
Ah yes. Here we go.
It's awkward, which he's expected, but most importantly, Geralt is trying. For him. Jaskier's smile continues to grow, because somehow that's still possible - how can it not be, when Geralt has added a cherry on top to an already perfect night?]
You assumed right, my friend. Look at you, having learned a thing or two about music after all. [He teases as he steps back to give Geralt his beloved personal space. But that doesn't stop him from grabbing the witcher's wrist to drag him to the desk.] I can protect my instrument, now let me teach you how to protect your ears. It's time for a little lesson with Professor Jaskier!
[Be a good student, Geralt, and you shall have your blessed silence.]