Passing the wine bottle to Geralt has been the right idea, holy crap. He goes all wild man on the cork, with an utility knife and everything. Add to that the flexing of those mighty muscles... muscles that now Jaskier knows exactly how strong they are (a lot). Fuck, it sure is hot in here, and it has nothing to do with the summer sun.
For better or for worse, the moment quickly passes, but at least Jaskier gets another wonderful gift today: Geralt allows him to take a picture together. Yes, he yells at the sky before crawling towards his friend until they are side by side, and Jaskier finally dares to do what he's been dying to do since his first visit:
Touch.
And this time, not by accident.
His arm goes around Geralt's shoulders and lands on a hard, firm, meaty bicep; it takes all his self-control not to grope. And since he's feeling so daring, he thinks he may as well go all the way out - so he bumps their cheeks together before quickly taking the picture, not giving Geralt time to have any regrets.
"Aww, look at that, you didn't melt or lose your soul to the camera! That wasn't so hard, now was it?"
The picture is a funny contrast, to say the least: his bright, wide smile and colorful clothes against Geralt's serious face and white hair. Opposites attract, many have said, and this contrast of ideas is poetic in Jaskier's eyes - the picture is perfect. Once he's back on his spot, he sends the photograph to Geralt before finally putting his phone away and raising his glass instead.
"To friendship," he says using that tone that predicts some poetry incoming. "May friendship, like wine, improve as time advances. And may we always have old wine, old friends and young cares."
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For better or for worse, the moment quickly passes, but at least Jaskier gets another wonderful gift today: Geralt allows him to take a picture together. Yes, he yells at the sky before crawling towards his friend until they are side by side, and Jaskier finally dares to do what he's been dying to do since his first visit:
Touch.
And this time, not by accident.
His arm goes around Geralt's shoulders and lands on a hard, firm, meaty bicep; it takes all his self-control not to grope. And since he's feeling so daring, he thinks he may as well go all the way out - so he bumps their cheeks together before quickly taking the picture, not giving Geralt time to have any regrets.
"Aww, look at that, you didn't melt or lose your soul to the camera! That wasn't so hard, now was it?"
The picture is a funny contrast, to say the least: his bright, wide smile and colorful clothes against Geralt's serious face and white hair. Opposites attract, many have said, and this contrast of ideas is poetic in Jaskier's eyes - the picture is perfect. Once he's back on his spot, he sends the photograph to Geralt before finally putting his phone away and raising his glass instead.
"To friendship," he says using that tone that predicts some poetry incoming. "May friendship, like wine, improve as time advances. And may we always have old wine, old friends and young cares."