Actually, Geralt's asking Jaskier and not Ciri because when he asked Ciri, she had laughed in his face. He should probably have disciplined her for that, but he was too busy being extremely confused about the nuances of social media and why it was showing him phallic purple vegetables.

He is absolutely not going to tell Jaskier that.

Geralt shoots Jaskier a stern look, one that he maintains throughout the musician's entire spiel; the furrows in his forehead deepen when Jaskier's eyebrows waggle at him suggestively. His mouth twists into an annoyed expression when he starts going on about being handsome and taking flattering pictures and that kind of bullshit. Lying to his face, that's a new one. He didn't think Jaskier was the type to spout baseless falsehoods.

"Jaskier, the girl that posted this is..." he checks her profile and does a little mental math when he finds her birthdate in the description. "Nineteen. I'm old enough to be her father, she shouldn't be sending anything to me. And not-- vegetable cocks."

What the fuck is his life? What is his life that he's getting sex emojis from teenagers on Instagram?

"I should take these pictures down." The back of his neck feels warm. He'll blame it on sunburn, even though he's already put sunscreen on to prevent that. "People are getting the wrong idea."

He knew he should've stuck to just horse pictures and not listened when Ciri told him to post pictures of himself, too.