That's definitely another grunt, because while he's not wrong-- Geralt would carry him down the goddamn mountain if he had to, even if he wouldn't like it-- he doesn't like that Jaskier has him pegged so well. He would have to, he couldn't just leave him with a broken ankle or something on the mountain, the idiot would get eaten by a coyote or a mountain lion before the night was up. And Geralt's not going back to prison for that kind of stupidity.
Thankfully, Jaskier changes the subject all on his own, going from Geralt's unfortunate weakness for a sob story to the first gig that he's gotten in the city. Apparently he'd managed to score a spot at a bar, someplace that someone like Ciri couldn't go to. Which must have been a bit of a hindrance, considering that his target audience is generally too young to drink, and therefore couldn't go into the venue. Not exactly the best choice. Geralt huffs-- figures, that this guy would end up getting a gig at a place where half his audience couldn't even go in, but who could blame him for taking something that paid?
"Trying to pad out your audience?" he asks, because why else would Jaskier ask him to come? He's probably telling literally everyone he knows, just on the off-chance that someone would take pity and show up.
But-- next Saturday. Geralt knows that he doesn't have anything going on, and his brothers have been up his ass about not doing social things. And by the time that Saturday rolls around, he'll have already gotten laid and gotten over whatever this particular bullshit is, so everything will be fine. He'll pick up some woman, fuck her until he feels normal again, and then he'll go to Jaskier's damn show because of perfectly normal non-friendship reasons.
"Farrier might be coming that day, I'll have to see."
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That's definitely another grunt, because while he's not wrong-- Geralt would carry him down the goddamn mountain if he had to, even if he wouldn't like it-- he doesn't like that Jaskier has him pegged so well. He would have to, he couldn't just leave him with a broken ankle or something on the mountain, the idiot would get eaten by a coyote or a mountain lion before the night was up. And Geralt's not going back to prison for that kind of stupidity.
Thankfully, Jaskier changes the subject all on his own, going from Geralt's unfortunate weakness for a sob story to the first gig that he's gotten in the city. Apparently he'd managed to score a spot at a bar, someplace that someone like Ciri couldn't go to. Which must have been a bit of a hindrance, considering that his target audience is generally too young to drink, and therefore couldn't go into the venue. Not exactly the best choice. Geralt huffs-- figures, that this guy would end up getting a gig at a place where half his audience couldn't even go in, but who could blame him for taking something that paid?
"Trying to pad out your audience?" he asks, because why else would Jaskier ask him to come? He's probably telling literally everyone he knows, just on the off-chance that someone would take pity and show up.
But-- next Saturday. Geralt knows that he doesn't have anything going on, and his brothers have been up his ass about not doing social things. And by the time that Saturday rolls around, he'll have already gotten laid and gotten over whatever this particular bullshit is, so everything will be fine. He'll pick up some woman, fuck her until he feels normal again, and then he'll go to Jaskier's damn show because of perfectly normal non-friendship reasons.
"Farrier might be coming that day, I'll have to see."